The Surreal Arc: Oceano
by mickeylover303
Summary: Time does not linger for those unwilling to change. Much less for those unready. Discontinued.
1. Oceano I

_**Primus: Oceano**_

_Sunday, 09 June 1995_

"Charmed, I'm sure." The child sneers. It is well after midnight, and he is once more at ease. The false pretences had ended after finally being able to force the young man out of his home.

Closing the door, he desperately wishes to forget the nuisance of the world outside. Leaving him vulnerable to the foreboding nature of his own home.

He wants nothing more than to sleep the night away, or what was left of it. The gathering began more than seven hours ago. The majority of which was spent implementing well-versed courtesy.

He still shudders at the thought of appeasing Mr. and Mrs. Ciccotti, the latter of whom could not refrain from pinching his cheek.

Of course, he found no reprieve from friends who were conspicuously absent. Their reasoning involved an excursion to Italy or France. He can only recall a fraction of the actual conversation; however, the consequence remains the same.

Who was he to suffer alone?

Fifteen years old and reduced to the petty whims of adults.

Although now, he wishes he were younger. There existed a time when his mother would carry him. She travelled these everlasting steps and down the long corridor into his room.

Despite his fanciful musings, his parents were asleep. They left shortly before midnight and bid him to humour their guests.

He could now attest that it was not the most unproblematic of labours.

But he is fifteen years old. He is old enough to plaster a smile and be economical with the truth. He even told Ms. Dubois that her ghastly perfume smelled "most pleasant."

It is really no wonder she remained single.

He is ready for this, is he not? These minimal tasks would lead to greater things.

The exception being Mrs. Gallo and her spawn. How could he forget the proud woman? Her newly acquired status of widow would in itself be questionable, if anyone had the courage to question her husband's death.

Even in this dark corridor he can see her. The candles are barely lit and the portraits resting with open ears. But in the menacing glow, he envisions her long hair. The strands darker than shadows concealed. Faintly glistening and developing about her hardened face.

But those eyes.

Her beady eyes are why he is peering cautiously behind him. Frantically attempting to verify that he is alone. He can still feel them, like a raven, constantly upon him. Even now that she is gone, they continue to haunt him.

Not that he would admit it aloud, but she frightens the fifteen year old boy.

However, it is the creature that she calls _son_ that bothers him most. Wandering hands left shadows in their filthy wake, while he was rendered helpless under the watchful gaze of Mrs. Gallo.

Burdened by his position as host, he could only make incessant chatter as his guests continued to take. It is a dangerous game.

One he perilously tries to manipulate.

"Father? I didn't see you…in the shadows. I thought you and Mother were asleep."

"Did you think us so callous that we would feed you as a lamb to the wolves?"

"Of course not, Father. I'm far from being called a lamb. I assumed you had finally given me responsibility." However, responsibility loses its luster after being accosted against one's will. "But Stuart was something I could have done without."

The Father reveals a manic twinkle in his eyes. His face holds no certain mirth. Yet, it is as if he knows something crucial.

And he is only too pleased that the child before him did not.

Because his son is, for all shapes and purposes, a lamb. Well-concealed to no one but himself. Nonetheless, he can at least admit that he still adores the child.

Leaning forward, he can barely resist the urge to stroke the pale angular face.

The likeness they share is uncanny.

The child is still, entranced by his Father's actions. He shudders at the unwanted contact. Although remains pliant until the hand gently removes itself.

His Father then twists, beginning the trek down the long corridor. No doubt to lie beside his Mother, who is asleep, though not oblivious.

He slowly traces the path where the soft finger had travelled. Albeit the gesture is not unwonted for the child's Father, he can still feel a patronising sting.

It resonates through the darkness.

"Go to bed…Draco," The Father insists, "You are little good to your Mother half-dead." He gives no further thought to child he knowingly forsakes.

Despite his Father's request, Draco makes no sudden motion, leaning heavily against the door of his room.

Dreadfully alone, he can do nothing but convince himself that at the age of fifteen, he is old enough.

He has to be.

* * *

_Honestly, I should not be doing this. Yet, I have this overwheliming urge to write...even if not the best work. I actually started this a little bit after the fifth book came out. I had yet to make my way around it._

_It's actually pretty long. Three parts I think. And this is slash, mainly between Harry and Draco. But it won't really appear until nearly the end of the second part. This is Draco-centric, but I do try to involve most of the characters. Mostly those not often spoken of in the book, such as Terry Boot._

_**Disclaimer**: I don't have anything to do with the ownership rights of Harry Potter. If I did, my books wouldn't make any money._


	2. Oceano II

_Sunday, 01 September 1996_

He was grateful for the calming draught. Otherwise, he would be pacing in the study as of now. Its effects certainly weren't as numbing as a bottle or two of firewhisky. However, the students would arrive within another hour or so.

Probably not enough time to enjoy being inebriated.

Of course, there were potions that would remedy him if need be. He actually had a wonderful supply kept well hidden from desperate seventh-years. But there would be no pleasure in such an abrupt restoration to a sober state.

No, it wouldn't do at all.

Moreover, he was to meet with Albus. Grudgingly, he had to admit to the fact that he did not know the purpose of the future encounter. Surprisingly, there were people, such as himself, who detested being uninformed of any matter or situation.

Still, the impromptu manner in which Albus called to him was more than enough cause for worry. Seeing that Albus was always one to warn, beforehand, those who would find themselves in his company.

…

And no, he was not brooding.

That troublesome child would surely say something as fallacious as that. Because he was _not_ one to brood. If one could ever do such a thing. It was a cruel term used to associate subtlety with histrionics. A vile word that he vehemently protested.

Said troublesome child was also conspicuously lax regarding any wonted communication. He had yet to hear from the boy at all during the course of the summer. While this in itself did not necessarily merit any need for worry, something inside him did not bode well.

It felt as intrusive as the soft knock upon the table.

"Severus?"

He didn't even think to give an acknowledgement to gaze he knew she had upon him. Not that he would do so in any normal situation.

"Why are you brooding," If he hadn't known any better, he would think she was involved in a conspiracy with a certain someone. "In the Dining Hall?"

He did not brood. And would not bother to explain that fact to death ears.

"I suppose I have to tolerate your constantly changing frame of mind if I wish to continue work beside you." She didn't even bother to conceal the complacency in her face.

Constantly treating him as if he were a child. The nerve of the woman never ceased to amaze him. Alongside her annoying tendency to state the obvious.

"Albus, as I'm quite sure you already know, has called for your attention."

"And I'm sure you see how unnecessary these…_circumstances_ are."

"You shouldn't worry about what I think, Severus." She sat beside him. Conjuring two goblets of, what he assumed to be, pumpkin juice.

"Thank you." Although a polite gesture, the words were forced. He wasn't necessarily unused to such words, but she had caught him in a discomforting position. "I'm glad we could reach an understanding."

"Yes. Because I normally wouldn't indulge you." She replied with a smile uncharacteristically tight, never before seen in their usual banter.

"Nonetheless, if my conversation with Albus is of such importance, then I don't doubt that yours will be of more pressing matters."

As he rose from the table, he noted a hint of worry in her expression. Or was it possibly confusion? It wouldn't take the long to reach the Headmaster, but if it upset Minerva to such an extent…

"And Severus," Turning around, a goblet suddenly appearing in his hand. "Take it with you." He gave a solemn nod in gratitude.

It would be best to appease, then.

* * *

She lay comfortably across the seat, robes scantily covering her legs. Positioned in a manner unfitting for one her burgeoning stature. 

Alone in the compartment, she felt no need sustain a pretence of any kind. A rare but most welcome feeling. Well enforced by the quiet and continuous hums of the Hogwarts Express. The diffused sound of the engine through the compartment walls was more than enough to lull her to sleep.

But she desperately couldn't afford such an action.

She sat up quickly, properly arranging herself at the slide of the compartment door. "And where have you been?"

"Is it really any of your business, Pansy?"

"It is if Vincent tells me that he's seen you with Boot."

"And what do you care for it?" The intruder looked upon her with a leer. "Jealous?"

"Of Boot? Don't be ridiculous." She scoffed as though it were the most absurd notion. "I just don't want Slytherin's reputation ruined because you felt the need to lower yourself, Draco."

"As if I would actually be seen with that Ravenclaw." He plopped himself comfortably beside Pansy, taking up more than enough space. "You're clearly round the bin if Crabbe is your best source for information."

"You're a right nutter, you know."

"And you wouldn't-" Draco was interrupted by the entrance of a new passenger.

Pansy sighed at the second intrusion. "This is getting to be quite annoying."

"Finally become tired of yourself."

"Fortunately no, Zabini. But I _am_ tiring of everyone allowing themselves in my compartment.

"_Your_ compartment? I believe you've had growth in more than just that chest." Pansy didn't look particularly miffed, but her eyes had a sort of gleam. "Not that I was looking or anything like that."

Draco scoffed. An action to which Blaise promptly responded, "I don't know how it got around that I was some kind of pervert, but it's not true."

"We never said you were, Blaise. However, you do have the awful habit of peering below my face when you talk to me."

"Draco?" Blaise turned to his friend, hopeful for support of some kind. But Draco seemed preoccupied with something else. Namely Pansy's earlier statement.

"Since when am _I_ everyone?"

* * *

"Harry, it's not healthy if you keep everything bottled up. It honestly helps to talk about it." But no matter how hard Hermione tried, Harry remained still beside the window. His eyes glazed with longing. 

Ron simply sat next to his best friend, remaining silent. He didn't want to upset Harry, like Hermione obviously was. But he also didn't know what to do.

The ride in the train was awkward, at the least. There were intermittent gaps in each conversation he tried to start. None of them lasted and each somehow traced back to a touch subject for Harry. Even talking about the letters they wrote over the summer died quickly.

Not to mention that every time Harry sighed, Hermione would look at him with the pitying expression. Harry would reject said pity, and Hermione would only try to be more compassionate.

Ron wished that Harry would stop kicking himself. Maybe then, Hermione would stop feeling bad for Harry because he was doing so. And things would be normal, again.

It was an aggravating cycle. And he was in the middle of it.

"Is everything alright, in there?" Ron looked up at the sound of the door sliding open.

Even if she wasn't the sense of normalcy he craved, Luna was more welcome than Harry and Hermione's behaviour.

I thought I heard a spot of yelling of something." She tipped her head curiously, light blonde hair falling to the side of her face.

"Yeah," Ron looked at his best friends, trying to overlook the fact that neither was willing to speak. "Just resting. Tired, you know?"

Yet, instead of leaving, Luna only continued to look at the compartment's occupants.

After a few moments, it became awkward when she still wouldn't leave. She didn't bother to come inside. The door remained opened and the sounds of laughter and merriment echoed whimsically and almost painfully inside of the compartment.

Then even Harry could take no more. "Is there something you wanted?"

Hermione was about to object the rudeness in Harry's tone, but the person in question seemed unaffected. That is, if she noticed anything at all.

Luna turned her attention to Harry, who became a target of intense study. Apparently appeased by what she had or had not found, she finally spoke.

"Oh yes. I had almost forgotten the reason why I had come here in the first place."

Ron and Hermione looked at her keenly, "Lavender has a message for Ron."

At that, Harry transitioned his gaze from the window directly to Ron. "_You_ and Lavender?"

"Oh don't look at me like that, Harry." Ron seemed hurt by look of disbelief in not only Harry's face, but Hermione's as well. "Not you, too, Hermione."

"Ron, I didn't say anything was wrong with it. Just a bit surprised, that's all."

"Thanks for the support, Hermione."

"In just caught me off guard, that's all. You never really told one of us."

Ron ignored her and turned to Luna. "What did she want?" Luna's eyes had yet to move their gaze from Harry.

"She asked me to fetch you. Or rather she demanded in that weird way of hers. But I didn't really mind because I like to move."

"And I want to move, now." Luna broke her concentration on Harry's figure. Grasping the side of her head as if she were in pain. "Because the clouds hurt my ears."

"I don't think I want to know, Luna." Seeing as there wasn't really much for him here, Ron was more than eager to leave. "But yeah, let's go."

"You're just going to leave? Walk out on us?"

"Lavender calls, Hermione." Ron was almost glad Harry chose to make no further comment. "I'll make sure to meet you at the sorting, right?"

"Fine Ron, just…Just go." But Ron had already left. Led single-handedly by a more than eager Luna Lovegood. Her other hand remained pressed against her right ear. The door finally shut behind them.

The silence that lingered was more than palpable. It became almost unbearable and louder than the noise that was quieted with Luna and Ron's departure. Harry knew Hermione was going to attempt to reintroduce something he desperately wanted to forget.

"Hermione, I don't want to talk about it.

"But Harry, if you would only-"

"It doesn't change anything." At her lack of response, he turned to her, hoping he didn't truly upset her. "I'm sorry, Hermione. But just drop it, okay?"

She replied softly, perhaps aware that she had pushed too far. "Okay, Harry."

"It's just too much to talk about right, now." He only could only give a shadow of a smile, but it was enough to encourage Hermione.

"In the last letter you wrote," He looked into her eyes, expectantly, "You never did properly explain exactly what you did to your cousin."

And as she smiled, Harry's eyed regained a bit of that excitement they used to always have. It was such a relief to see him much more at ease. Almost like the Harry she grew to love. And for now, Hermione would accept this version of the young man in front of her. Like him, she would ignore the turmoil that raged inside. Hiding beneath a veneer of confidence.

Because sometimes it was okay to forget.

* * *

Perhaps now, he could admit he was brooding. For all sakes and purposes, he was in a right state of panic. His encounter had not gone well. 

Albus knew.

Somehow, he had known.

Granted, Albus did not know the specifics or his predicament, but the fact of the matter remains.

Albus knew _something_. And as redundant as it may be to say, knowing something was _much_ more than knowing nothing.

It only brought about more questions.

Who else knew? How much did they know? What would they do with the information they now held?

They were practically endless.

Severus truly loved the child, but keeping the boy's secrets was taking a heavy toll.

Because now it meant that he could no longer delay the inevitable.

At this rate, it would soon be improbable to attend The Sorting. Absences, on his part, were not that conspicuous, anyway. And the Slytherins would be able to manage without him.

To hell with the students.

He was opening the firewhisky, tonight.

* * *

"What are you waiting for, Pansy?" 

"Aren't you two going to escort me?"

"What for?" Blaise was outraged. But Draco took the offer in stride, presenting his arm for Pansy to receive.

"Well, you were staring at her knockers in-"

"Would you two quit it?" Pansy and Draco simply glanced at one another.

"Yes, I'll admit it." He took a deep breath as faced the object of his confession. "Pansy…You have an appealing area that I highly admire."

Pansy's smile would break her face if it were spread any wider. "Not up to Draco's standards, but I guess it will do."

Consequently, Draco's smile bore little difference. "You know that Pansy is a vein wretch, don't you?"

"Of course, I don't mind the fact that _you_ find yourself staring. I was only trying to get you to admit to it." Her voice was proud, not taunting.

Blaise could only sigh in response. As if he missed something incredibly profound. "I swear that no matter how hard I try, I will never fully understand you two. I mean – Is that Brown…with Weasley?"

"What are you talking about?" But true to his observation, Pansy and Draco spotted Lavender and Ron walking together. Sharing a laugh, even.

"If he's with her…"

"Then where are-"

"Over there." Blaise pointed to the last two people exiting the train.

The three watched Hermione and Harry, happy as if in the middle of sharing a secret joke. And for once without the company of Ron.

It was a strange occurrence. Apart from the spectacle in their fourth-year, Harry, Hermione, and Ron and been nearly inseparable.

Draco must have been staring too long, for Pansy and Blaise began pulling him away from the train. He took one last look at the divided friendship. Glancing at his friends, he couldn't stop the pitiful feeling that arose from the bottom of his stomach.

* * *

_So random, but did anyone notice the 'sever', as in severing ties, in Snape's name? Maybe I'm just slow on the uptake. Anyway, I think this is officially AU, now. I was going to change it to fit around HBP, but I'm sticking to my original ideas._


	3. Oceano III

_Sunday, 01 September 1996_

They walked briskly through the empty corridors. Careful to tread lightly upon the marble floor. Without wands and adorned only in black cloaks. Hoods drawn tightly around their faces. They weren't fortunate enough to have invisible ones, and magic was too easily detected.

"Do you think anyone will know that we're gone?"

"I doubt it." Stopping at a corner, the companions looked about nervously. "_Obsurius vera involvens_."

"Hurry," They searched the vicinity once more. "Before someone does see us."

Despite their hulking figures, the two easily blended within the shadows. Their whereabouts visible only to those who sought them. Fairly unsurprisingly, the dark area did well to hide the two figures from plain sight.

After all, Hogwarts was a magical institution.

"Where is he?"

"He said he would meet us here." They both pulled their cloaks tightly around themselves. The small, dimly lit room was damp and chilly. A stark contrast to the corridor they were in just a few moments before.

"I know what he said. I was there."

"I know you were there. I was there, too."

The companions shared a glance, sliding against the wall for support. Glancing at the empty fireplace with obscured longing.

"He's not here, now."

"_Obviously_."

"I understand that you're frustrated. I am, too. But your sharp wit isn't really doing anything to help the situation."

"I'm sorry. I know you're right, but we were already told what to expect. What would probably and eventually did happen."

"You can't imagine how much I wish he was here. Can we even do this without him?"

"I wish he was here, too. But we have no choice but to. Even though we all tried, we knew it was bound to come to this. And we're prepared for it."

"I don't doubt it for a second. I know what we have to deal with, now, but…"

"But _what_?" The tone was harsh and impatient, but more so out of fear rather than anger.

"I'm worried."

"I like the situation half as much as you do," The voice gave a defeated sigh, barely noticeable even in the silenced room. "And I know you don't like it at all."

"It just feels like something is wrong. Like something has already happened."

"We can't afford to mistakes this far into the game. How can you be sure?"

"That's the problem." Two pairs of eyes glanced at the apparent darkness, searching for answers that weren't there. "I can't."

* * *

The majority of the students had already arrived in the Great Hall. Noisy and crowded, the sounds of silverware clanking upon dishes blended into the huddle of voices. She was becoming more anxious as the sorting was about to begin, soon. It wasn't that Hermione told Harry, but she was worried whether or not Ron would meet them as he said. Though he would probably be able to tell, regardless. 

She looked at the sixteen year old boy next to her. He hadn't grown much in the past year. But it was to be expected. Sometimes, she wondered if he would grow much at all.

His glasses were skewed and a bit dirtied. And his hair as muddled as ever. Yet somehow, it made Harry more approachable. Less daunting than he seemed sense last term.

It wasn't exactly his appearance. But more the consistency in it.

He was currently chatting with Dean and Seamus, while she was faintly listening. She normally would have participated, but she had no desire to argue the qualities of quidditch and football. Neither did she think the conversation next to her concerned anything remotely appealing. The day would be too soon when people stopped reading those trashy witch magazines.

Truthfully, Hermione was rather quite hungry. More or less her reason for her lack of conversation. But still couldn't be bothered to fully appreciate the meal.

The pumpkin juice was particularly distasteful for some odd reason. Perhaps it was meat pie they were serving. Hermione always had an odd reaction to taste of turkey upon her tongue. She preferred chicken, anyway.

Picking at her food, Hermione wondered how Harry could forget everything so easily.

"There you are, Ron." Hermione looked up at the melodic sound of Harry's voice.

Ron waved happily as he walked over to his two friends. Greeting them with a wide smile that matched the beginning of Harry's own. "Dean." He gave a quick nod of acknowledgement. Not as excited as his previous gesture, but amicable, nonetheless. "Seamus."

Harry turned to face Hermione, whispering out of Ron's reach. "See? I told you Ron would come back."

"I never said anything, Harry." She followed Ron's progress as he neared closer. "He just had other things to do, that's all."

Harry promptly made room for Ron. A small but manageable space between himself and Hermione.

"Sorry, it took so long." Ron squeezed himself comfortably in their little group, once more. Straining to fit in between Harry and Hermione.

"It feels like I haven't seen you guys in ages."

"Yeah." Harry gave a quick glance to Hermione. "I know exactly what you mean."

She gave a Ron a soft smile. "Hey, Ron." Something which Ron did not hesitate to return in kind.

"I'm a bit starved." Harry grasped his friend's shoulder; genuine laughter from his mouth as he watched Ron began to pile his plate. "I'd say that would be more than a bit, don't you think?" He watched as Ron practically inhaled two ill-portioned meat pies. Teeming with potatoes, vegetables, and chunks of savoury meat brimming unto the table.

Hermione, after such a display, could only wonder how he had room for more. "Ron, you're going to off yourself at this rate."

"I'm a growing boy." Hermione only rolled her eyes at the nonchalant response. Casually disregarding the taste of pumpkin juice after taking a bite of her own meat pie.

Pausing in his eating Ron quickly glanced at his two friends. Sparing a small smile at their laughter. They were talking over him, but he didn't mind it so much, this time around. Truth be told, he was apprehensive about seeing them, tonight. In the train, Harry had been so out of sorts, and Hermione right alongside him.

He was more than happy when Luna was able to free him from the oppressive atmosphere. And though he and Lavender only made mindless conversation. It was better than being trapped in that vacuum of a compartment.

Looking at the jovial faces beside him, Ron couldn't help but give into his the urge to fully grin. Consequently showing his food to Hermione, who wasted no time in scolding him, and to Harry, who, if possible, had the brightest smile on his face.

Things would be normal again.

Ron just knew it.

* * *

"Why was he staring at you?" 

Draco turned to Pansy, only to follow her gaze toward the Ravenclaw table. "What are you talking about?"

"How could you not see him?" Draco only looked at her dubiously. "You _were_ with him early, weren't you?"

Pansy searched her friend. Hoping his behaviour would give her a clue as to what was going on. Ever since last summer, Draco had been acting strangely. Unwilling to converse about anything outside the realm of trivial matters. So unlike the Draco she used to know.

But that was when it was safe to share secrets.

"You mean _him_?" Draco gave his full attention to her, concealing his voice from prying ears.

"I already said what I needed to about your sources. If you don't believe that's an issue of yours, it's not my problem."

"Any thoughts?" Pansy turned to Blaise, confused.

"About what-"

"You want your pudding?" He asked this unnecessarily, as there was quite a large bowl already occupying a spot on the table.

"Oh for the – Get off me Zabini." He was comfortable, leaning a good deal of his weight against her. Quite cosy against the cushion of her body.

"I just wanted-"

"Oh, we know well wanted you wanted." Draco snorted with an immature disdain. "And if Pansy weren't so faithful I'd-"

"_Don't_. Change the subject, Draco."

He looked to Blaise for support. "I'm not trying to change the subject." However, Blaise wasn't one to forget things so easily. "Stop looking at me like you know something I don't."Content with remaining silent for the time being. "Does it look like I'm trying to change the subject?"

"I'm with Pansy on this one." Blaise knew that Draco was always a bit evasive. But not usually to Pansy and himself. Only when it concerned certain things he didn't want to talk about. "Is it about the _inter_-"

"Idiot." Pansy quickly covered Blaise's mouth. "You say the worst things at the most inopportune times."

Blaise forcefully removed her hand. "I'm whispering." Wiping his mouth as an afterthought. "So what's the big deal?"

"Is that what you call whispering? Daphne could probably hear you." She pointed at said girl, currently sitting on the other end of the Slytherin table. "And you know how she gets."

"Nobody's paying us any attention."

"Daphne's always giving someone some sort of attention." He would rarely miss a chance to be snide concerning his fellow Slytherin, but too late did Draco realise it would have done him better to remain quiet. As it brought about the attention of his friends.

Pansy and Blaise leaned closer, giving Draco a questioning glance. "Snape wouldn't tell us anything."

"Of course he would never tell you anything." Draco gave them a haughty glance. "That's because there's nothing to tell."

"And next you're going to tell us that his absence doesn't many anything, either, right?"

"What are you talking about?" Draco fixed his eyes upon the staff table. It appeared as though most members were accounted for. Even an unrecognisable one. A new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, perhaps? But for some reason, he couldn't find Severus.

He looked at his friends frantically. A pallor beginning to grow on his already pale face.

"You didn't notice?" Blaise glanced at Draco charily. If he didn't already know any better, he would have said that Draco and Snape were having some kind of affair. They way they would carry on and such. Figuratively joined at the hip, even.

Of course, neither Draco nor Snape was one for open affection, and there was nothing romantic shared between them. This was only because he knew what signs to look for, but their relationship with each other was, if he could put it in no other way, _special_. Nothing like the one Draco had with Pansy. Or even the one Blaise had with Draco. And he counted Pansy and himself among Draco's closest friends.

Somehow…Somehow, it was more meaningful.

"I…" And for Draco not to notice when Snape wasn't nearby…

That said much more than his friend would ever want to admit.

"Draco?" Blaise turned his gaze to Pansy. Apparently she was thinking along the same lines. For she had something similar to concern in her voice. A something that was extremely unwonted. Especially for Pansy.

"I didn't-"

"We'll talk about it later." Blaise intervened for more than simply Draco's sake. Frankly, he didn't want them to cause another scene. Although Pansy and Draco were his own very close friends, they had a tendency to be a bit dramatic at times.

However, Pansy ignored Blaise. Speaking to Draco in an accusing tone. "You haven't even been in contact with him, have you?"

Draco replied harshly, "Not that's it's any of your business."

"We need to talk about it, now." Her penetrative stare was directed at Draco, who began to cower beneath it. But she was in fact, speaking to Blaise.

Who once more tried to intercede. "I know, but we-"

"I don't need to tell you anything."

"No?" At her question, Draco looked at Pansy defiantly. "You're right. You're going to tell me _everything_."

"As if I-"

"Would the two of you just shut your mouths?"

Pansy and Draco turned to Blaise simultaneously. "What?"

"We'll talk about it later."

"Why?" Pansy was a bit more than livid. She needed to wheedle whatever she could, now, before Draco decided to clam up again.

"Because the sorting is starting."

* * *

_Thanks for reading (and **JaninePSA** for reviewing). Hope you are enjoying this so far.And Daphne, as in Daphne Greengrass._


	4. Oceano IV

_Friday, 06 September 1996_

Perceived almost as a sanctuary was the study. From classes, professors, friends, family. A sort of retreat from his mundane life. Or it would be if his life were ever that routine.

The room was amazing in its overly simplistic nature. Though filled mostly with dark undertones, there was a bit of a homely feel, as well. The varying hues of browns and blacks. Taking their place within the walls and furniture. Enhanced by the cream of light and colour from the candles.

It was sparsely decorated. There were no curtains. Or even windows for that matter. Embracing only shelves, a desk, a chair, and a small divan, which was able to hold, at most, two people.

At the moment, it was absolute solitude in the most comforting sense.

Severus had made no changes. If he had, Draco had yet to notice. It seemed to be in the same state as it was when Draco first entered all those years ago. The couch that used to swallow him whole, which even now, he still managed to lose himself in somewhat.

The wonderfully putrid stench of freshly brewed potions. And expired ones, as well. Simply strong because the only source of ventilation existed in the far right corner of the room. Virtually hidden beneath the large oaken desk. It had taken Draco a few years, but it had become almost pleasant in the queerest sense.

Yet, as he sank further into the couch, that nostalgia – those welcoming memories – spared him no grace, today.

"I see you've made yourself comfortable." Draco watched as the shadow revealed itself in the dim glow of the room.

"As comfortable as you'd allow me to be at any rate." Though his appearance was sudden, Draco made no indication if he was startled by Severus. "How long have you been there?"

"Do you not have prefect rounds, tonight?" Severus looked pointedly at the boy lounging across the couch. Not offended by the lack of response he more or less expected. Though he did receive a rather crossed look that spoke wonders of the boy's feelings concerning the matter. Draco was too easily offended. But perhaps he did patronise the boy. His rhetoric certainly deemed it so. "When have I ever felt the need to justify my whereabouts in my own study, Mr. Malfoy?"

"And here I had this silly notion that you once told me to treat it as a home. Yes, I believe that's what you said."

"If I knew what an obnoxious brat you would be about it, I would have never extended the courtesy."

For a moment, they seemed to ignore the expectations. Reverting to an easiness that was uncommon, if not rare, between them. But so accustomed to living behind the veil deemed necessary by their society, the practiced gibes rapidly fell short.

The study becoming strangely quiet. Well beyond the point of gentle tension. Neither man nor boy was willing to break his façade. Too afraid of the consequences of displaying any open affection, even if only to each other.

Severus remained standing as he was looked upon stubbornly. He still seemed to linger in the shadows, despite exposing himself to his young student. Draco did his best to ignore the flickering candlelight evenly dispersed about the room. Concentrating on the man in front of him.

"Are you willing to tell me what kept you so preoccupied that you neglect to make contact with me?"

"When you tell me where you were at the sorting, last week."

"I've made numerous attempts to reach you the entire summer. Only your mother would respond to me. And even then, her words were muffled."

"I was doing quite well in my ignorance. Unlike our head of the house, I saw the new Slytherins that came in this year." Draco was of course referring to the sorting, feeling it was enough to hold against Severus." Remember, you called for me."

"The _entire_ summer."

"You gave me a _detention_." Draco stared accusingly at the man who stood before him. "It's bad enough Pansy and Blaise won't let off, and now-"

"Then stop attracting attention to yourself, Draco." Severus sighed. Weary and out of patience for the task the fell to him. He wouldn't say that he enjoyed censuring the boy. But at times, he could be entirely too trying. For as much as Draco wished to present himself as an adult, he still lacked heavily in many qualities. "You're being immature and quickly becoming lost within yourself."

"But I'm not," Draco refused to break eyes contact with Severus, "I'm not purposely drawing attention to myself." He would prove that he could handle the situation on his own. He didn't need anyone's help. Least of all, Severus interfering with his plans. "And I know exactly what I'm doing."

Severus clenched his shoulders in barely perceived irritation. Hoping he wouldn't have to bellow at the child who was quickly grating on his nerves. "Your housemates, and soon your schoolmates, are well on their way to being suspicious of you." Perhaps genetics played a stronger role than for which he gave credit. If Draco's stubbornness and inability to see reason was any sign.

Draco was always rebellious. Towards anything and everything. But there was still so much he didn't know. So much even he was afraid to tell him. Albus for instance…Severus didn't mention it, hopeful Draco wouldn't be so oblivious this time, but if his schoolmates were wary, then his professors already knew something was changing.

Pride and fear were the only obstacles shielding Draco from the harsh realities.

Right now, Severus stood on a precarious line. Draco knew plenty, but was still sheltered, given a filtered version of the truth. Not quite a lie, but it still managed to turn one truth into many. Soon, too many to genuinely sustain. And if Draco were to ever find out about Albus, the entire situation would be no less than a living nightmare.

"And singling me out makes everything so much better." Draco had come for answers. He did not come to be reprimanded for actions in which he had no say. And if his questions were not going to be answered, he decided that he was no longer going to be here.

"You still have your detention Monday night. Be appreciative that it's with me instead of Mr. Filch."

Draco gave Severus no indication that he heard him. For once, he would rather be subjected to that pitiful caretaker, than be left to the mercy of Severus. Anything other than having those scrutinising eyes upon him.

Removing himself from the divan, Draco began walking promptly towards the door.

"This is far from finished, Mr. Malfoy." Severus had never known Draco to be this cynical, or at least this fool-hardy, up to and during their last encounter. Severus thought he had taught the boy better. But it appeared, despite his efforts, Lucius had a much more considerable sway that he previously thought. Something Draco could not escape. No matter how much he tried or how fiercely he fought against it.

Draco didn't even dare to look back at Severus. Knowing he would crumble beneath that steely gaze. The one that would surely shatter him. Leaving too many pieces that he wouldn't be able to pick up.

"I have class."

* * *

"Why are we still taking this course, Harry?" 

"Because it's easy, Ron."

The three figures sat in the nearly empty Gryffindor common area. In front of the empty fireplace, cackling embers and flashing warmth, this time, not missed. Surrounded by an abundance of papers, books and quills. It was scarcely after lunch, and the three companions had completed their classes. Voluntarily burying themselves in their studies.

"Maybe I asked the wrong question." Ron looked intently as his parchment, sitting blank underneath his quill. Somehow trying to will words to appear. "Why are we doing homework on a Friday afternoon?" For he was honestly concerned and could not understand why he, Harry, and Neville were not wasting their time. As there was plenty of time to procrastinate and do the work Sunday night. Or even Monday morning.

Harry looked at his friend, exasperated. Able to speculate about the thoughts that were probably going through Ron's head. As they used to permeate his mind, as well. Is this what Hermione had to deal with? And if so, how did she handle both Ron and himself?

"Because if we get it done now, we won't have to worry about it during quidditch practice, tomorrow." An idea that once seemed so grand, Harry now questioned its original merits. Ron had been content to go along with the idea, until they actually started to do the work, that is.

"Mate, I know you love quidditch and all. Because you know I do, too. But it's only been a week of classes, yet."

Inwardly, Harry did agree with Ron. But this was for more than Gryffindors' sake. It was for his sake, actually. He didn't want to be selfish, but Harry needed to immerse himself in something, soon. He needed to get his mind of certain things. Certain incidents.

Certain people.

And quidditch was the only way he knew how. Because he wasn't that desperate to drown himself in school work. That would only serve to make things worse. Harry gave Ron another wary glance. Not yet, anyway.

Harry began chanting a mantra in his mind. He was _not_ desperate enough to resort to school work.

Thankfully, Neville came to his rescue.

"I think Harry's right." Ron looked at Neville with poorly disguised disgust. This, unfortunately for Ron, did nothing to quell Neville's spirit. "It's…How do I put this? I think _productive_ may be the right word."

"_Productive_?" Ron questioned in disbelief. Since when were they ever _productive_? At this rate, he'd be forced to finally read _Hogwarts: A History_. Ron's dramatised shudders were noticed by Harry and Neville and likewise ignored.

Harry nodded in agreement. Thinking Hermione would be proud. He would be sure to tell her when she got out of class. And to thank Neville when Ron was out of sight. "Time management, Ron. I think we may just get the hang of it. It doesn't even seem that bad." He spared a glance to his other companion. "Maybe even a bit rewarding. Right, Neville?"

"_Time management_?" Ron heard a certain squeak in his voice that he voluntarily ignored for the moment. He felt it was a more than righteous response, regarding the current conversation.

"I also think the course a bit interesting." Neville sank under the withering glances of his friends. Who were fervently against any significance for which the course stood. True or otherwise. "Even if I don't think it's real. But the idea is still fascinating." And Neville did. He couldn't even begin the fathom the implications of knowing the future. So much he would be able to do. So many doubts and uncertainties about himself he would no longer have.

"At least it's not Herbology." Neville gave his own glare to Ron, who in response, tried to console his friend.

"Not that there's anything is wrong with it. It's just nice to see that you don't hang out around plants all the time." And he was faring miserably. "And of course there's nothing wrong with plants, either. I guess they can be good friends, depending on what you're looking for."

Harry and Neville could only wonder how Ron managed to speak so quickly without so much as a pause. Harry was more amazed by how unintentionally tactless Ron was being. He looked to Neville, hoping he wasn't upset by their friend's rambling. He was surprised, however, to note that Neville was nearly sniggering. Apparently he already knew Ron meant no harm.

"Some people do have a tendency to talk too much and can never seem to close their mouths. So I can see where plants come in, but don't forget that you have human friends, too, you know? I mean, it's good that you have me and Harry. And others, I hope? Not that-"

"Just shut up, Ron." A good-natured proposal that Ron took without hesitating. He could definitely feel his face becoming almost as bright as his hair and was more than relieved when Harry decided to intervene.

"It's all right, Ron." Neville began to shake in an attempt to contain his laughter. "No offence taken." Ron gave him a sheepish grin, pleased he didn't insult Neville.

"Better Herbology than Divination, huh?"

Truthfully, Harry didn't know whether or not he believed in Divination. So far, it only seemed to cause him pain. The prophecy. Sirius' death. Looking into the future just caused more problems than he needed.

On a whole, the idea was dangerous. Did knowing the future change it? Or simply cause it to happen? Or could you even change it if you knew how it would happen?

If he knew Sirius would be trapped Beyond the Veil, would he still have gone to the Ministry?

For Harry, the future, known or unknown, failed to give him comfort, even in the kindest sense. And neither did the past. He once thought lingering in something that would always be a constant, would so give him some sort of assurance of his purpose. Because it would never change. It could never change.

But at the moment, Harry preferred to live in present. In the _now_. Because he wasn't sure how long he'd be here, anyway. Harry could never understand that precise allure of knowing the future. He questioned the fascination, now more than ever, as it only wagered death. That of those near him and eventually of his very own.

What was so special about the future, anyway?

* * *

Had Lavender always been in this class? Hermione quietly thought to herself. It's been two years, and apparently she had yet to notice. She looked at the girl just a few seats ahead of her. Long, thick brown hair mockingly resting against the back of her robes. 

Hermione had always prided herself on her ability to pick up on even the most minute details. A rarity in her generation, of this she was quite positive. Accredited to her keen sense of observation. When she wasn't to speak, she was sure to watch and listen. Although, it had taken her a while to become accustomed to this particular talent of hers. Grow into it, if you will.

Then, why had it taken so long to register the fact that Lavender was in her Ancient Runes class? And was probably with her since the first day?

Even if the class was particularly quiet and mostly uneventful, that doesn't excuse not knowing who was in the class. Hermione lived for these deceivingly simple elements in life. Who is in which class. In which year a student may be. To which house a student belonged. Even the most trivial seeming of material could have the most striking relevance.

Hermione wouldn't say she was a glutton for it. Be she did appreciate the sense of clout it lent to her. She would never admit to the fact, but truthfully, it was dreadfully seductive, and she was heavily addicted.

It was no well-kept secret that knowledge was power. Because if you knew more than someone, it constitutes as a kind influence that no one would be able to take from you. Something you could only _willingly_ give. For even if it was forcibly disclosed, there was no betterment to be had for the receiver. Because he or she had to gain the knowledge from _you_.

But what Hermione perceived as the true power of knowledge, lay within manipulating the scope of someone else, shaping the perceptions of another. Whether or not he or she underestimates you. However, that person only does so because you _allow_ it. You make yourself appear weak and utterly incapable.

Then you truly have the advantage, when you have the element of surprise. Doing what is not expected of you. Because when that moment occurs, not only has someone underestimated you, he or she has undoubtedly overestimated his or her own feeble capabilities. And that concept made Hermione's awareness of herself much more appealing.

She may have neglected to recognise Lavender's presence, but she knew it was triggered by something. As to what, she was without an answer for the moment. Though, at least no one had to tell her. The simple prospect was enough of a catalyst for the irritation she held firmly within her.

But it didn't come close the how Malfoy's mere presence, despite everything she had already endured, managed to rile her. In previous years, outside of the class, he was happy to tease her. More than pleased to cause her tears to flow. And most recently, he was quick to anger her. But it was because he did not accomplish it deliberately, as it were. As far as Hermione was concerned, Malfoy was completely unaware. And she wished for it to remain so.

Because as much as he taunted her beyond this impartial space of the classroom, he simply disregarded her within it.

In this class, he portrayed a model student. Or the closest to a model student one could be in Ancient Runes. Yet, the fact remained that he wasn't the Malfoy she grew to perceive.

It wasn't as if he was a central aspect of her life. Only Harry and Ron were held so closely to her heart. But Hermione grew to accept that though Malfoy may have bullied in that cowardly manner of his, it didn't necessarily mean he was any less human. More of an annoyance than anything else.

However, the fact that he was in a class such as Ancient Runes…

It spoke such volumes.

Hermione could remember stepping into class that day. Almost tripping over herself seeing Malfoy so immersed in his books, only too happy to ignore her presence.

Her image of him as a self-abiding dastard had slowly begun to change. If he kept up with this class for so long, that meant there was something else. Something more. In her eyes, he became more than Malfoy. He became Draco Malfoy.

A student.

A classmate.

An academic adversary.

Hermione grudgingly even came to respect him. But only in matters concerning his studies. She wouldn't allow herself to acknowledge him in any more positive ways.

No, because there was nothing more.

Hermione could remember how wary she was the first day she sat through the class with him. Because it was a class structured only for those who truly wanted to and were willing to learn. She immediately knew there was something not quite right with Malfoy's attendance. And it still unsettled her, today.

Hermione could remember how suspicious she was, as she sat with him the entire year. No more careful than necessary as she flew through various assignments. And Malfoy existing right alongside her. Those earlier days spent in an exclusive naïveté

When she didn't realise what exactly that _something_ was.

It was then Hermione began to mature, to understand the inner-workings of the world outside her own hidebound sphere. So long had she selfishly believed in her perspective of the world. She was almost trapped within her vision of two extremities:

Black and White.

To the point of ignoring the other houses, as well. Gryffindor and Slytherin had so long invaded her mind as the sole purports in school life, and thus extending to their real-life counterparts. Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were merely distractions. Abstractions, even, that had no suitable placement other than outside her narrowed scope.

And this continued to hold true, even as she was not a witch in the purest sense. A _mudblood_ as some would call her. Not even inherent to this magical world, but involved, nonetheless. A muggle-born.

It was through this though, she had truly grown from the precocious child, with no true insight, that she once was. Beyond the hindrances of status. Beyond the petty name-calling, under which she was once influenced.

Because inside of Ancient Runes, none of it existed. It was a sort of neutral territory that granted the opportunity to see the world as it was. A settled sense of cordial behaviour that ran across the board. A civility that disappeared the moment each of them left the classroom.

In spite of this notion, she had never spoken to Malfoy under this premise. He didn't even bother to acknowledge her. An irony she could truly appreciate.

And though she recognised the _something_ that was off-kilter about him, she had yet to figure it out. An admission in which she was angered to give. For as much as she loved knowledge, Hermione could not brook being incapable of understanding.

A folly she knew. But these things irked her, nonetheless.

"Would anyone volunteer to be partners?" The professor tried to encourage his students to interact with one another. Even after two years together, they were still a most uncooperative lot. "I'm sure you are tired of having me assign you." Not quite loners, but surely there was no haste to involve themselves in a partnership. Merlin forbid, any sort of commitment.

"Ms. Granger?" He was pleasantly surprised as he saw a single arm rising above the heads of her classmates. Even if Hermione was assertive in her concerns, she was wontedly passive in group projects.

"And with whom would you choose to work?"

"Draco Malfoy."

Hermione ignored the shocked faces upon both the professors and her peers. She would do what she must. Because something was starting, and Hermione wanted to be a part of whatever was happening.

And she would not be the last to know. She absolutely refused to be.

She caught the questioning gaze from Malfoy out of the corner of her eye. Interested to note that it wasn't angered, merely cautioned.

For the first time in the class, Hermione had caught Malfoy's attention.

* * *

"Are you done, yet?" 

"No, I decided to do Potions, first. Since we want to be _productive_ and all. I'm actually doing Divination, now. Already started, really."

"Speaking of Potions, did either of you hear about Malfoy?"

"Since when do you blether, Neville?" Ron paused in his writing to give his focus to Neville. He never thought Neville would prattle about anyone, much less Malfoy. But he was intrigued. He hadn't heard of Malfoy in ages, it seemed. Not even on the train.

And if Neville was willing, anything to stall his school work.

"Or care about Malfoy for that matter?" When did Neville _gossip_? And about Malfoy, too? Harry hadn't really heard much about him in the first week of classes. Although this year, neither he nor Ron had anything in their timetables that overlapped with Malfoy's, presumably. But Malfoy usually caused some kind of trouble by now.

Or did he only notice, because in the past, he had shared classes with him?

Regardless, Harry wasn't in the mood to talk about Malfoy. And after that incident on train…He really couldn't care less what happened to him. He was trying to forget about certain things. And Neville bringing up the Slytherin wasn't helping.

Neville blushed beatifically. "It's just that…In my Advanced Herbology course, Ernie was telling me about it. Since you know Hufflepuffs have Potions with Slytherins, this year."

"Not that I'm not grateful for their sacrifice, but could you just tell us what happened in the class?"

"And Ernie is in my class. That's how I found out." Neville was a little intimidated by how intrigued his friends were. Causing him to resort to old habits such as reiterating.

"Yes, yes. We figured that, but _what_ did Ernie tell you?"

Neville took a pacifying breath. Hoping the news would be worthy of the attention his friends were giving him.

"Professor Snape gave him a detention." It was said so succinctly, so irrefutably, that Harry and Ron wondered if Neville was joking.

"What?"

"_That_ git gave that _git_ a detention?"

The look Harry gave Ron may have been condescending if he weren't so confused himself. "Nicely put, Ron." He returned his attention to Neville. "Are you sure? Snape doesn't even take house points off Slytherin; much less even give one of them a detention.

"I think I can believe what Ernie says. He was there, after all."

Harry could see that Neville was beginning to get a bit miffed. Not what he intended. He wasn't questioning Ernie's credibility or Neville's choice in friends. Although he couldn't speak for Ron on the latter subject. He just couldn't believe Snape would do something so unbiased. "We're not saying anything against you or Ernie."

"Right." Ron gave Harry a swift glance, affirming his statement. "But we're talking about Snape, here. And that ferret has always been a teacher's pet." All three shared a quick smile. "No pun intended."

The teasing seemed to clear the atmosphere. And Ron and Harry were relieved to see the tension fade from Neville's face. "I guess when you put it that way…I don't even think I can fully believe it."

"I'm going to risk sounding redundant," Ron was a bit peeved at the uniform looks of faked disbelief on Harry and Neville's faces, "But what happened?"

"Well, Ernie said he was sitting close to Draco. Not like partners or anything." Neville was seemingly pressed to stress this fact as something of utmost importance. "I think he said Draco was partners with Parkinson or something. Some girl. I'm not sure, but while they were working - Draco and his partner - on their potion, their cauldron tipped over." If Harry and Ron noticed how Neville continually referred to Malfoy as Draco, they choose not to comment.

Too eager to hear the rest of the account.

"Go on." Both huddled closer to Neville, urging him to continue.

"There wasn't really anyone to blame who wasn't Slytherin. Ernie was the closest Hufflepuff, but he was a couple of desks away. And I don't think anyone had their wands. Professor Snape has a new policy for sixth year Potions, so it couldn't have been magic." Neville began to chew on his nails. "Unless someone can do wandless magic, which I doubt." Anxiety settling within him. He was more than appreciative when neither Harry nor Ron made a demeaning comment.

"Ernie said he thought that Professor Snape would blame him or something just for the sake of it. Because it was only a simple calming draught. Even _I_ could do that." Neville paused, looking nervously between his two friends. "But Professor Snape told Draco to clean it up. I guess it was because it was on their desk, you know? Parkinson, or whoever Draco's partner was, went to get a rag but he told to her to sit down. Because he asked Draco to do it." He began to fiddle with his fingers, almost as if he were unsure whether or not he should disclose the rest. "The professor told him again, but Draco sat down and said _no_ to him."

"Told him _no_?"

"That's what Ernie says. I reckon he's still not in that much trouble, though."

"You _reckon_? If it was one of us, especially me or Harry, we'd be expelled before either one of us could even say _quidditch_. Filch dragging us by the chains on our ankles into the Forbidden Forest." Ron wasn't quick to forget about the spiders, but he kept his fear of them silent. The possibility of expulsion was enough to dwell on for one day. "I wouldn't even have time to get a howler from mum."

As much as he didn't want to, Harry was thinking along the same lines as Ron. But his imagination extended to being fed alive to Mrs. Norris…who he was sure wouldn't mind feasting upon their live flesh. And Firenze standing over their rotting bodies, claiming to have predicted their deaths. Coincidently finding it better to keep he and Ron unaware.

"Even if Professor Snape gave Draco a detention, he's still Draco."

"Yeah, but it's still not fair." Ron looked dejectedly at his second nearly full piece of parchment. "Maybe now, Snape will give Hermione house points."

"And maybe you'll stop your wishful thinking, Ron."

"If Malfoy got a detention…"

"I know, but I'm going with Neville on this one." Ron seemed to brush Malfoy off. Unsurprisingly, not caring too much about him. But Harry had to admit he was the least bit intrigued.

Why _would_ Snape give Malfoy any sort of punishment? Why would he even as Malfoy to _clean_ something up in the first place?

He knew Snape was a Death Eater. No question about it. But Snape's position in the war was still ambiguous. Was he recruiting Malfoy or something?

He would ask Hermione, later. She would be as interested as he was. If not, more. In addition, she may still share a class with him.

And even though it was Malfoy, it did give Harry something else to take his mind of things. Being as quidditch practice wasn't until tomorrow and the situation wasn't that hopeless that he'd resort to homework. He'd be sent to St. Mungo's before that would ever happen.

"Oi, Harry."

"Hmm?"

"You're not done with your Divination, yet?"

"I finished mine nearly an hour ago." He looked at Ron's proud face, curious if anything, of this sudden display of happiness. "I'm working on my Potions, now."

"Look at this." Ron held up his parchment. "Just look at _this_, mates."

As Harry, Neville seemed awed at the length of the paper Ron was eager to show them. "Fourteen and a half inches of absolute rubbish that will get me more than a passing grade."

Neville looked at Ron, clearly impressed. "Is that for Potions?" Perhaps the gossip about Professor Snape and Draco had given him some motivation.

"I told you guys I finished that first. This is for Divination."

Suddenly, Neville began to snicker. Struggling to maintain his laughter. "It'll give you a passing grade, all right." Ron could only look at him in wonder.

Harry turned to face his friend, tentatively. Barely able to suppress his laughter, as well.

"Ron, you only had to do five."

_

* * *

_

_My only note on this is that Hermione scares me...No, really. She does. _


	5. Oceano V

_Monday, 09 September 1996 _

"I couldn't be bothered last weekend."

Hermione looked at him with what she hoped was well concealed disbelief.

The two were in the library. Separated by a small table that was clear of any books or parchment. "Are we going to work on it, tonight?"

"I can't." He spared her a glance, turning his attention to fondling the hem of his cloak.

"I'm not going to be baited, Malfoy. Let's skip the acrimony for the sake of our grades." She sighed heavily, leaning back with her arms crossed. "Why not?" Because the backbiting was tiring in the least.

"I have more important things to do." He said, rather dismissively.

"What's more important than a project that's worth more than half your grade?"

"Nothing that concerns you, Granger."

"If you think I'm doing the work by myself…"

"Even I'm not that sadistic." Draco leaned into his chair, his posture become twisted and crooked. "It's not due until the end of term, anyway."

"But I would prefer to begin as soon as possible."

"Which for me, is not today." Draco looked particularly miffed at the fact, scrunching his nose in irritation.

Hermione's tone was uncharacteristically patronising, "Then may I ask when would be a good time for you?" Even towards someone like Draco.

He hesitated in his reply and she was keen to see a flicker of something in his eyes. A something that could not be placed because she knew very little of the person across her.

"After today, surely. That is, if it's not too much a bother for you?" Draco emulated Hermione. Though his speech was cordial, his voice was also condescending.

"There's no reason why we can't take it upon ourselves to behave civilly outside of class." She thought it in both their best interests to shelve it and lead the conversation elsewhere.

"I think that pretence fell through the moment you forced our partnership."

"No one forced you to do so. It's not like you had to accept."

"But didn't I?"

Hermione was tiring of going back and forth with her peer. "If you put the histrionics aside, I think I may be able to stand you."

"Not very subtle of you."

"I don't have much time, Malfoy. Let's just agree on our topic. Then we can go back to whatever it is we do."

"Banter?"

"I wouldn't even call us acquaintances."

"I see…Well, what did you have in mind? I don't particularly care, so I'll let you choose."

She chose her next words carefully. "How…_generous_ of you."

"I thought so, too." He gave a smile. Not exactly the most amicable look on his face, but at least he didn't sneer anymore.

Hermione did her best to ignore Draco. She had a feeling it wouldn't be too long until she bore the fruits of her labour. "Out of the possible topics given, I'm leaning toward the Ljóðatal of the Hávamál. I know it's one of the more difficult focuses, but you can keep up, can't you?" She added in a challenging tone, hoping to rile him.

But he didn't take the taunt.

Hermione peered at him curiously when he didn't respond. Studying him. Taking note of the stillness of his body and his unblinking eyes.

It was disconcerting if anything. He simply stared ahead, though not at her. Hermione turned around, wondering if there was anything of interest behind her. Facing Draco when she saw only the bookshelf.

And despite her penchant for books, they certainly weren't much to stare at.

"Malfoy?" She waved her hand in front of his face, hoping to gain some sort of reply. A sneer. A yell. She would be so desperate as to settle with _mudblood_. Something other than what was in front of her.

Because he looked so _lifeless._ That was the only way to describe it. If she didn't see his hands gripping the side of the table. To the point where his knuckles were becoming more pallid than his skin…She would think he was dead or at least along those lines.

It was eerie the way his eyes were glazed over. Almost as if it was the result of a corneal hazing. But the effect was glassy, not cloudy. And his lips were pale, pink with a hint of blue. She noticed the little colour in his cheeks was lost among the even pallor of his skin.

Like a living doll.

Staring at nothing that was apparently something.

"Are you-" Hermione cut herself off, startled by the sudden movement of his lips. What followed were words whispered, soft and almost difficult to hear. Her eyebrows were raised as she began to discern what he was saying.

_Þat kann ec iþ tolpta,  
ef ec se a tre vppi _

"What are you…?" She looked around her. The library was unusually quiet, even for a Monday morning. But no one seemed to notice the strange state Malfoy was in. And Madam Pince simply continued to mind books on a shelf somewhat near them. Apparently no one noticed the sudden in him, or cared for that matter.

Hermione concentrated again on Draco, watching in rapt fascination as a light began to appear from his eyes. Somewhat yellowish green in tint, it was the faintest glow but not completely imperceptible. She listened as he continued, seemingly mindless of where he was. She was able to pick up bits and pieces, and although she couldn't be sure, it did sound like the inscription on the rune. As much as she had been able to translate.

_vafa virgilná:  
sva ec rist oc i rvnom fác, _

She found herself moving closer, her body leaning heavily across the table. "Were you just…How much do you actually know?" Enticed by this new discovery, Hermione was soon mere centimetres from his face, as if her proximity would answer the questions that permeating in her mind. _How was he able to translate the words on the rune? And more importantly, what had she said that had such an effect on him_.

"When we haven't even-" Hermione let the question linger incomplete as Draco suddenly jumped back, almost falling over his chair "…started on it?"

She was somewhat relieved and equally dismayed as her immediacy must have released him of whatever trance he was in.

Draco, however, was in a near panic, surprised by how close they once were. "What do you think you're doing?" He was startled and off balance, fumbling to get off the chair and away from Hermione. "Get away from me."

"Now is not the time to be obtuse, Malfoy." Internally, she was surprised Draco knew of it. But by the look of his actions, it seemed he was just reciting, nothing more. However, it still didn't account for his knowledge of it. Not to mention the light coming from his eyes.

"No, I wasn't." Draco took the effort to relax, willing himself to be calm despite his inner turmoil.

He didn't know exactly what happened that could account for Granger's suspicion of him, but he had a feeling what it probably was related to. And if Granger ever acted upon her curiosity and started snooping around in his affairs…No, Draco couldn't even begin to think of the damage it would entail. "You're hearing things." He did his best to deny her accusations, but given his panicked state, he knew he did poorly.

"Don't argue with me. I know that I heard you mumbling the inscriptions from the rune." She was careful not to mention the name of the runes, no telling what she could provoke.

"How can I be mumbling something when I don't even remember doing anything? You're mad, Granger." At least Draco didn't think he said anything. And that was the problem with these incidents; he rarely did remember when they happened. And despite the fact that he knew just what triggered it, he couldn't recall what happened. It had to be a coincidence that she picked Ljóðatal. Granger didn't know anything.

She couldn't possibly know.

"Malfoy." Hermione looked at Draco with finality that he made no room for argument. "I _recognized_ it."

"Look, _mudblood_," She shrugged of the name. If he wanted to deter her, he was doing a poor job. Hermione had grown past the derision and her curiosity crushed any semblance of the girl she used to be. "I have places to be, things to do…Both of which don't involve _you_. So I'll be on my way."

Hermione didn't bother to answer. She only watched as he left his chair, not bothering to push it underneath the table.

Knowing she had been witness something that could make or break this war.

* * *

"I expect thirteen inches by Wednesday." The students began packing their materials. Closing their texts and drying their quills. The Professor raised his voice above the scattered noise. "Any parchment I receive with a length of more or less shall not be graded." Taking the words as a sign of dismissal, the collection of Slytherins and Hufflepuffs eagerly made their way out of the classroom.

"However, Mr. Zabini and Ms. Parkinson, you are to remain with me to discuss your academic performances."

"Didn't know you two were doing that horribly. Catch you later?" Blaise and Pansy looked toward their friend.

"Yeah, Theodore."

"Don't wait for us."

"Mr. Zabini, the door, if you will." After Blaise closed the door, with a flick of his wand, the Professor silenced the room. Beckoning the two students to follow him into his study.

Severus let himself remain standing as Blaise and Pansy were comfortably seated. Sharing the divan Draco had sat on just days before. "Has he told you anything?"

"Not really..." Pansy looked abjectly at her professor.

Blaise however, had an awed look in his eyes. "You're not going to use a memory charm on us, are you?"

"And why would I do such a thing, Mr. Zabini?"

"In case…Well, I don't know. It just seems like something you would do."

Both Severus and Pansy looked at Blaise with warranted concern. Although Pansy took the initiative to respond to the question.

"I think you're getting too involved with this. Why would Professor Snape need to erase our memories? It's not like we're Unspeakables or something. We're loathed to pick a side. And I don't think we have the equivalent for _our_ fight."

Severus looked at his students in confusion. He used to think Draco was testing. "Regardless of your fanatical thoughts, it would not benefit me to do so. I need you two to be aware of Draco."

"Why?"

"I'm not ready to let him know the extent of this matter. Neither am I sure that he's ready to know himself."

"I think we're doing a good job on our parts, as far as keeping him out of the loop. But he's really frustrated."

"And won't tell us anything, anymore. And if he didn't even contact you last summer…" Blaise left the statement open, hoping to get

"I'm not too concerned because there is someone in whom Draco will willingly confide."

"Who?" Pansy and Blaise looked at their Professor anxiously.

"If you don't know, I'm not going to be bothered to tell you."

Pansy looked at Severus, expectantly. "But where was Draco, today? He can't be sick. Unless there's some side effect of the _inter vivo_s?" She paused for a moment. "Besides the obvious."

"_Inter vivos_?" Interesting as it was, Severus had to admit that he was new to this terminology. Then again, there wasn't really a name for Draco's _circumstance_.

"That's what we call it." Blaise shrugged his shoulders. "Draco says that's what it feels like. But of course, we wouldn't know."

"Of course not." The Professor looked at his student in mock distain, effectively hiding the disappoint he felt at not hearing of the designation from Draco himself.

"You know I'm not one to wear my heart on my sleeve." Pansy rubbed her shoulder, anxious and disquieted. "Or any of that rubbish, but I'm worried about Draco. Maybe this is too much. He was upset about Friday. Didn't sit too well to get a detention from you." She tried to control her shuddering but Severus was quick to catch the small tremors as she tried to hide her face in her robe.

"Is something wrong with your shoulder Ms. Parkinson?"

"Pansy, did he…?"

Her voice was muffled by her sleeve, but Severus and Blaise were able to discern the words. "I think the stress is getting to him. It wasn't as bad as that first time-"

"You should have said something." Blaise looked at her worriedly. "When was it?"

"Sometime last week, in the commons area. He didn't even know he was doing it." Pansy took her gaze to the floor, upset that she was so easy to read.

"And who was the other person?"

"Theodore."

"You should have said something earlier."

"I'm sorry Professor, I was just worried about Draco and-"

"You didn't stop to think about the consequences. It's not just you or Mr. Malfoy, Ms. Parkinson. If Mr. Nott somehow-"

"He won't. I barely felt it myself." Pansy said.

"Professor, are you sure that giving him a detention was the best thing?"

She looked at Blaise in agreement, but also grateful for the distraction. "Because it's just adding to his stress."

"It's not as if I have yet to give a Slytherin a detention." Severus was well aware of the perception of favouritism toward his House.

"Yeah, but compared to the other Houses…" Pansy looked at him thoughtfully, concern marring her face.

"Won't it be suspicious? Especially for Draco?"

"Trust me, Mr. Zabini. Draco's humiliation concerning his punishment will be the least of his worries."

* * *

Ron looked up at the appearance of Hermione. Her robes swinging dramatically behind her as she rushed through the grounds, barely scraping the grass.

"Where's Harry?"

"Who knows? He was here just a few minutes ago, but he said he had to get something." He moved to the edge of the blanket, making room for Hermione and her books. "Why?"

She placed her supplies on the blanket, her books leaning against the tree. "He was the one to arrange this little gathering. And he wants to know about my interactions with him." And Hermione would relate everything to her two friends. Or at least what she was willing to disclose.

"I don't even have to ask who you're talking about." Ron rubbed his forehead, trying to quell the headache in its initial stage. "Why do we always have to talk about Malfoy?" He removed his hand, appearing to Hermione with a tired expression. I mean, can't we just ignore him for once?"

"Because his detention is with Snape." Ron could only blink at her response. He didn't understand how that it a reasonable cause to be worried about the two. "Don't tell me you're not the least bit suspicious?"

"Didn't we already establish that Snape was on our side?"

"For the moment at least. And it never hurts to be cautious."

Ron decided to ignore her, murmuring about her paranoia as he reclined against the trunk of the tree.

Hermione took his silence as compliance. She knew Ron would eventually see reason. It was just taking him a bit longer than usual. It seemed over the year, he had become more and more disinterested in their adventures. But he always came around in the end.

She gave his relaxed form a quick glance before opening her text, thinking to do something constructive while they waited for Harry.

Hermione had only started on the first page when she felt a shadow over her. Ron noticed, as well, immediately straightening his posture to acknowledge the person behind the shadow.

"So how was it?" Hermione and Ron looked to see Harry, glasses crooked and books being held limply by his side.

"Working with Malfoy? About as much as can be expected." Hermione decided to leave out the fact that she had requested Malfoy as a partner. Despite the fact she already told them about the project.

"You saw him without us?" Ron was now alert, no longer leaning his weight against the bark of a tree. "He didn't do anything to you, did he? If he did, I-"

"Wouldn't do anything." Hermione closed her textbook, ignoring the fresh crease on the page she had made. She didn't like vandalising her books, but she had no marker with her. "It's amazing how quick you are to change your opinion where I'm concerned."

"We're just trying to look out for you." Ron tried to reason.

"And I appreciate it, but I can look after myself."

"At least let us know the next time." Ron gave her a pleading look. "Please?"

Hermione nodded if only to calm Ron. There was no way she was going to let someone keep tabs on her. He must think she was twelve or something because it was simply out of the question.

The rusted gears in her mind had begun to move again. Because she knew her morning encounter was going to be her only indication of anything that may be going on. She knew that Malfoy would be on his guard and more defensive than usual.

And Hermione was not going to let Ron or Harry interfere or raze her chances.

She would reveal some things but certainly not everything. It would be easy to dissuade Ron, but Harry could be a problem. He was already distracted enough as it was. And his newest fixation may ruin her interrupt her intentions.

Because unlike Ron, Harry was less concerned about her welfare and more preoccupied with her partner in Ancient Runes. "Are you guys going to meet again anytime soon?"

"It depends on Malfoy, really. When I hear from him, I suppose, which I expect to be sometime tomorrow."

"You never told me when you were supposed to meet him." Hermione noted the excitement in Harry's voice, the hint of obsession that lingered in tone. "And how did you hear from him?"

"In the library. That's why I was a bit late. Parvarti heard from someone who heard from him and told me. Apparently he couldn't be bothered to contact me over the weekend."

Hermione was surprised to hear the input from Ron, thinking he decided to forgo this conversation. "Still the same. Though I wouldn't expect him to change. Not ever."

"He wouldn't tell me, but I'm safely assuming it's because of his detention. And he really didn't want to tell me."

"You should have held it against him. You should have humiliated him with it."

Ron gave Hermione a quick glance, not moving from his position. He was almost wary of the words coming out of Harry's mouth. "Isn't the project a big part of your final grade for this term?"

"It is." She still held the text, her hand in between the flaps, fingering the crease. "Why do you ask?"

"I mean, why aren't you hounding him down or something…Not that we want you to, but don't you want a good grade?"

"And I will get one. I always do." She pursed her lips. "Malfoy's not that self-deprecating that he'll risk his own grades to see me do poorly. And it's only the second week of classes."

"Then how do you know what to do?"

"I already told you. I met Malfoy in the Library, today."

"_Alone_?" Ron looked at her frantically.

"For the last time. Yes, I met with Malfoy _alone_." She was annoyed by the fact she had to repeat herself and Ron was only reviving an old conversation.

Harry seemed to sense the conversation would head elsewhere if he didn't intervene. "What did you talk about?"

"Something I've been interested in for a while, now."

* * *

It was time to admit that he was panicked. If he wanted to be truthful, he would say he was terrified.

Draco waited in the boy's dormitory. He was sitting on his bed, fidgeting, in constant motion. The lighting removing the darkness and the stark white walls giving him some comfort. He shared the room with four other boys, but he was only waiting for one.

He missed Potions but it wouldn't something to worry about. Severus would understand. He would finally talk to his Godfather. He had no choice, now. If they were to keep his condition under wraps, he would have to reveal everything to Severus.

Because something had happened during his encounter with Granger.

These lapses of memory were occurring more frequently that he wanted. And just as it happened earlier he knew exactly what caused it, but couldn't determine what he did.

But what was more unsettling was how the mere mentioning of the rune could mitigate his control. How Granger's nonchalant broaching of it had caught him off guard. He hoped it was more to do with the former rather than the latter.

Draco looked to the door, his instincts perceptive to the small scrape of wood upon wood, the aged door against the floor. He quickly stood, attentive of someone coming into the room, determined not to be caught by surprise twice in one day.

"I thought you liked to sit in the dark?" Recognising the resonant voice, Draco gave a sigh of relief. He was barely able to refrain from flopping back on his bed.

"You know I like the dark as much as you, Goyle." It was joke between the two of them. And Draco was glad to be on more familiar level.

"Yeah. Well, you know how that goes." Gregory closed the door behind him and made his way toward Draco.

"I was beginning to think you wouldn't come." Draco watched as Gregory sat down on his on bed. "Where's Crabbe?"

"He's in Care of Magical Creatures."

"Really?" It was more of statement than a question. "I thought he was in Herbology."

"You're thinking of Theodore, again." Gregory paused, taking in Draco's form. He appeared unusually weary. "So what is it that you really want to say?"

"What?"

"I may not be as smart as everyone else, but I know enough to know that you know everybody's timetables." Gregory searched Draco face. "And you don't need me unless it's something you haven't shared with everyone else."

"There's nothing in particular that I want to say. Nor would I want to say if I did have something."

"You're not answering the question." Gregory wouldn't hesitate to admit his lack of intelligence in some areas, but he considered it a fair trade for his patience, which he truly favoured. Because it helped him deal with Draco in ways others couldn't.

"And you're trying to distract me."

"You can't sidetrack me that easily. Even I'm not that stupid, Draco."

"I never said you were, Goyle. It's..." Draco halted, trying to articulate what to say. "Just some things, that's all."

"Did you speak to Mr. Malfoy about it?"

"Of course I haven't spoken to Father about it. He can't know about." Draco looked his friend incredulously. He knew he was able to communicate through Azkaban, but he wasn't exactly sure if he pertained to his father's sense of loyalty. "Mother doesn't even know the extent of it."

Gregory offered Draco a sad smile. He wondered if Draco would ever be free of himself.

Draco continued. "You were there last year. After I hurt her." He swallowed the lump in his throat. "After I almost _killed_ her."

"Then what happened this summer?" Gregory tried to pry without being too forceful. He didn't want Draco to retreat again.

"Severus put you up to this, didn't he? As if a detention wasn't enough…Nothing happened. _Nothing_."

Gregory knew Draco was in one of his moods and decided not push any further. Letting Draco speak on his own time.

"I ran away."

"You-"

"I ran away. I couldn't take much more of staying at the manor. Father is in Azkaban. Mother would rather spend her time wherever I was not and see me occasionally."

"Mr. Snape told me he got a letter from Mrs. Malfoy when you didn't answer him."

Draco spoke quietly, to the point where Gregory had to strain to hear his voice in the empty room. "But that's what I need you for."

"Well…" Gregory sighed heavily, knowing whatever Draco had to say wouldn't be any joyous news. "Tell me about the summer first."

"I stayed with a cousin."

"That Auror?"

"I give you too much credit, sometimes Goyle. "Why would should even let me near her?"

"I know you well enough that you spread your secrets." He shrugged. "But what cousin do you have that's alive and you can trust?"

"I can't tell you."

"Can't or won't"

"A little bit of both, actually."

"Does this cousin know about your." Gregory made a circular motion with his finger. "You know?"

"Yes."

"Does Mr. Snape know this cousin and the fact you let out your secret."

Draco turned away, unwilling to face Gregory, almost ashamed. "Maybe."

"So that means _no_."

"You wouldn't understand."

"Try me, Draco. Because you trust me with everything else." Gregory took a calming breath. He did value patience, but he forgot how easily frustrating Draco could be with his need for secrets. He was always the one Draco could come to without hesitation. And Draco knew that. "Things you don't tell Pansy or Blaise. And things you don't tell your Godfather."

But Gregory received no answer for his efforts.

"Well, if you won't talk to me. Let me clear up some things for you. Okay?" Draco didn't even nod.

"I'm not supposed to tell you this. Mr. Snape told me not to tell you." At the mention of Severus, Draco was quick to give his attention to Gregory.

"I know you want to know why he was gone last week." Gregory paused to moisten his lips, wondering if he was doing the right thing. "It's because Mr. Dumbledore is getting curiouser."

He ignored the disbelief of Draco's face. "Why do you think that kind of magic is even allowed here? In the hidden room. In our dormitory. It's because Mr. Dumbledore knows." Gregory knew would be in trouble for putting this on Draco, but if it was the only way… "He knows _everything_."

Draco was on the verge of panic. He knew Gregory was telling the truth, but his faith in his friend didn't stop him from wanting to deny it. "That doesn't mean he knows about-"

"No. But he knows something."

"But he doesn't know, right? If he knows what I can do…If he knows-"

"Relax, Draco. Mr. Snape wouldn't like it if you passed out on me. You haven't done that since we were kids." Gregory tried to calm his friend, throwing in a small chuckle.

Draco seemed to compose himself, sparing a smile. "Yeah, I haven't done it a while. And I remember how it would scare Severus every time."

"I just thought you should know." Gregory said. He was eased by the fact that Draco wasn't taking the news too badly. "So what did you really want to tell me?"

As Draco's skin begun to become ashen, Gregory berated himself for bringing it up so soon. He had a feeling he wouldn't like whatever would come out of Draco's Malfoy.

"I think Granger knows."

_Granger knows_. It immediately sent off warning bells in Gregory's mind. That simple phrase was the same as opening Pandora's Box. He replied to Draco in careful voice, hoping not to portray the dread he felt inside. "When did this happen?"

"This morning. She…" Gregory waited anxious for Draco to continue. "We were working on our project for Ancient Runes…She mentioned the _Ljóðatal_."

"It has to do with your…whatever you want to call it."

"_Inter vivos_." Draco corrected.

"_Inter vivios_, yeah. Go on."

"That's the thing, Goyle. I don't remember what happened after that."

"You don't remember?"

"No…"

"Well, this is new." Gregory squeezed his nose. "How long has this been going on?"

"Since that incident where I almost killed Pansy."

"So before the summer?"

"Yeah."

"And now Granger is suspicious of you…For something you don't remember." Gregory found himself sighing again. Draco had such damned luck.

"And when you say Dumbledore knows something…" Draco started to panic again. "Does this have anything to do with Granger?"

"I really don't know. But you do know that I have to tell Mr. Snape."

"Goyle." Draco looked at his friend pleadingly. "You can't tell Severus. This has gotten out of hand already." He stood up, intent on leaving the dormitory. "I shouldn't have told you. I should have taken care of it myself."

But Gregory wouldn't let him run away. This was something it was time Draco face.

He grabbed Draco's arm before he had a chance to get away. "No, Draco. You were right to tell me. You can't do this by yourself." By now Draco had begun to struggle out of his grip. "There's still a lot you don't know."

Draco looked at his friend in anger. A defence mechanism. "I don't really care, right now. If Dumbledore knows, then who else knows Goyle?"

"I don't know, Draco. But you can't run off like this." Gregory tightened his hold, well aware of the bruising that was becoming on Draco's arm. Because Draco was still struggling to leave. Something Gregory wasn't willing to let him do again.

And for the first time, Gregory raised his voice to Draco. "You can't keep running away to bury your problems."

It seemed to gain Draco's attention as he stopped struggling, giving his full attention to Gregory, who finally loosened his grip. Assured that Draco wouldn't try to leave. Assured that Draco would finally listen.

He spoke softly this time, hoping to make an impression on Draco. "You can't keep running away, Draco."

Draco looked up at Gregory, trying to take in his words. Gregory was the one person he could always talk to. Gregory was his confidant.

They held each other's gaze, a moment of understanding coming between them. Yet they were too engaged to notice the arrival of Pansy and Blaise.

"What happened?" Blaise asked, taking in the scene of Draco and Gregory standing close together. "We heard yelling and-"

However, Pansy looked closer and caught something. Noticing the faint light that began to cover Draco's eyes. She acted quickly, wanting to intercede before anything happened. "What did you do, Goyle?" Pansy ran up to the pair, pulling Draco away from Gregory, effectively breaking his trance. After making sure Draco's eyes returned to normal, she turned to Gregory, an accusatory look in her eyes.

Gregory was removed from his own trance. He shook his head, clearing the haze in his thoughts. He opened his eyes to find Pansy and Blaise looking expectantly at him.

Draco looked to the person now holding his arm. "Pansy…?" His voice was groggy, as if he was just waking up.

She ignored his questioning gaze, speaking again to Gregory. "What did you _do_?" She enunciated slowly, like she was belittling him. Pansy knew it was mean of her, but she also had a chance to see the bruising around Draco's arm. And even if Gregory was a friend, if he hurt Draco she couldn't let that go.

Blaise looked warily at Pansy. "Pansy, what are you talking about?"

"Shut up and help me with Draco, Blaise." She held on to Draco as he began to place his full weight on her. "I'm talking to Goyle at the moment."

Gregory looked at the nearly unconscious figure being supported by Pansy and now with Blaise's help. He hadn't even realised that it's been affecting Draco this much. He wondered how far apart Draco's secrets were spread.

Truth be told, Gregory knew he had had probably hurt more than he had helped Draco and hindsight, he probably shouldn't have told him anything. He didn't need Draco's earlier episode as an indication to know that he was exactly the most subtle person. But he firmly believed that they couldn't afford to protect him like this, anymore. Not when there was so much at stake.

And he didn't like having to lie to his friend.

Gregory knew the _inter vivos_ was the one thing that would break Draco. The one thing he couldn't stand to talk about. But it was also the one thing that he could no longer afford to hide.

"I told him the truth."

* * *

_Finally finished that one. :sigh of relief: And not so cryptic this time...Okay it still is, but I think I may be finally going somewhere with this as far as actually getting the prude in me to disclose something more. _

_And thank you to those who have read and janinePSA, dairygirl, and Andrew-Squee for reviewing._

_And the Runes I use are real, verbatim. And this one does have significance._


	6. Oceano VI

_Wednesday, 11 September 1996 _

"Why am I in-?"

"Your friend's bed?" Pansy said. Finishing his question in a curt manner.

He nodded slowly at her, trying to ignore the slight ringing in his ears. He couldn't remember when he'd last felt this horrible. The various aches in his body prompted him to stretch, or at least stand up, but at the same time, it was too painful to do so.

And neither did he have the energy.

"That's a good one. Tell him why he's in your bed, Blaise." She scoffed. "Tell Draco _exactly_ how he landed himself this close." She held her thumb and index finger but two centimetres apart. "This close to being admitted in the hospital wing."

"You were unconscious." Blaise said simply, though it still managed to garner his friend's full attention.

"No I wasn't." Draco tried to raise his voice, but found it was scratchy, as if he hadn't used it in days. But he still opposed the idea of his friends knowing. "I was not insentient."

Pansy ignored the feeble protest. "And what Blaise neglected to tell you is that you've been _insentient_ for almost two days."

"And before you ask," Blaise held his hands up. "I've already collected your work." He knew Draco did care about his studies. Some classes were apparently more important than others, but he still cared all the same.

"Thank-"

"Malfoy." Draco cringed at Pansy's use of his last name. "If we already knew what the matter with you was, I would _not_ hesitate to lay a proper one on you." He could see her fists painfully clinched at her sides. Draco knew her words were true and was internally gratefully at the fact that her hands were placed below the mattress of the bed.

"We're not really sure why," Blaise started.

"Because you won't tell us." Pansy intervened. She was barely able to reign in her irritation and distress at what she perceived as Draco's obvious lack of faith in his friends.

"Thank you, Pansy." Blaise continued at her nod of approval. "But you've been avoiding us."

"And now you've no choice but to spill exactly what's been going on."

"You can't keep trying to do this on you own." Blaise ran a hand through Draco's tousled hair. It had been unkempt for two days. It made Draco look horrible. And it scared him when Draco didn't protest the gesture as he usually would.

It reminded him of Monday. When he and Pansy walked in on Draco and Goyle. Blaise would never admit his flaws, but he was afraid when saw Draco. As his friend lay unmoving in his arms. Eyes opened and unfocussed.

But still alive.

It was what Blaise had to keep telling himself. Like a hymn he would recite under his breath. That Draco was still alive, regardless of how inert he appeared to be. It was just one of those _things_ that were a just side of effect of Draco and that _inter vivos_. One of the many things about himself that Draco had yet to discover.

Because some _things_ were best to be remained untold.

Draco blinked. Trying to gauge the demands of his friends. He was still dazed and his vision a bit blurry. And despite his initial objections, he knew why he was still in bed.

But had no clue as to how he got to this state in the first place.

"That's what I would like to know, as well."

Draco almost gave himself whiplash turning at the new voice in the room. If his body would allow such movement. He knew he should have expected Severus to be lingering in the shadows somewhere. It was almost as if it was a marque of the man. But even with this knowledge of his godfather's mannerisms, the man had yet to fail to startle him.

He felt a headache coming on.

* * *

"Oh…"

Harry narrowed his eyes slightly. Reacting to the disappointment he heard in the voice. "Oh?"

"It's just you." Truth to be told, Hermione had been seeing too much of Harry, lately. He was constantly asking her for information concerning Malfoy. Incessant about the least trivial thing. How did he behave in the classes she shared with him? Did Malfoy communicate with anyone outside of Slytherin?

With which hand did he write?

The latter of which she intentionally tried to put Harry off, stating that Malfoy wrote with his right hand.

But to her astonishment, as well as unease, Harry stated that it was with his left hand that Malfoy wrote. Her unease was warranted when he chastised her for not picking up something so obvious.

"What do you mean it's just me?"

Hermione looked at him warily, suspicious of his intentions. The innocent ploy no longer worked with her. She saw straight through her friend. Because she knew it was inevitable. She knew precisely where this conversation would lead.

But she tried to deny, nonetheless.

"Where's-"

"Never mind Ron." He took a seat on the downy couch. "I want you to tell me about Malfoy."

And it was another failed attempt to persuade Harry to speak of something else. For the past few days, most conversations had led to the discussion of Malfoy. Seemingly the only thing on Harry's mind.

It was unhealthy.

And could easily cut into her own intentions. "I already told you. There is nothing suspicious going on."

"He didn't meet you yesterday, did he? As you said he would."

Hermione slightly angled her head; feeling a bit perturbed by Harry's presumptuousness. "And I told you that's when I _expected_ to hear from him."

"This isn't like you Hermione. You're hiding something from me." Harry fidgeted in his seat, visibly unhappy with her answer. "There has to be more."

"Harry, don't you think you're taking this a little too far?" Hermione was becoming anxious herself. As much as she tried to dissuade Harry over the past week or so, he kept pushing for more. And simply would not let go of the subject of Malfoy.

She did agree that it did seem out of character for her to dismiss Malfoy, but only for her younger self. Hadn't Harry seen that she'd grown? Hadn't he seen that they'd all grown a little?

He ignored her, his mind set upon a different track. "Neville told me-"

"Neville?" Hermione scrunched her brow at this information. As she was not aware that her fellow Gryffindor had any interest in Malfoy.

Or anyone else for that matter.

"Yeah." Harry continued. "He's the one who told me and Ron about Malfoy's detention." He looked at her dubiously. "How else do you think we found out?"

"Well, I'm not sure, Harry. But since when does Neville keep tabs on what Malfoy does?"

"Neville's in the same Herbology class as Ernie, who has Potions with Malfoy."

"_Really_?" Hermione asked, a bit awed by the chain of gossip.

"And since he wasn't in that class, I'm thinking he wasn't in Ancient Runes, either."

Harry took note of the surprise in Hermione's face, as it wasn't often that he got the chance to bring that look about.

She crossed her legs, putting her left leg over her right. Pulling her robe over her knees. "If I didn't know any better, I would say you had his time table on record or something."

Harry didn't even think to be embarrassed about the comment. In his mind, there was nothing to be embarrassed of. Because although he did not have Malfoy's actual timetable, he practically knew his schedule.

"What has gotten into you, Harry?"

"I don't know. I just….I just want to forget about last year. About Umbridge and-"

"And you think stalking Malfoy is going to keep your mind off it?" Although she truly feared for Harry's sanity, Hermione could almost see the logic in his reasoning. Malfoy was a constant for Harry. A sense of familiarity. And when change occurs, you hold on to the constant as if your life depended on it.

Because in some cases, it actually did.

"No. I can't really explain it. But what if he really is up to something? A spy or something. You said it yourself."

"That doesn't mean I'm shadowing him."

"I can feel it."

"You can _feel_ it?" Hermione asked incredulously. She wondered if there really was some latent magic at work. Maybe she had been underestimating Malfoy. If that scene in the library was to be fully taken into consideration.

But there was no way possible that Malfoy was stronger than Harry. Hermione realised that she herself, was reluctant to let go of the familiarity of the past, which certainly did not make her a hypocrite. Yet, Harry was Harry.

And Malfoy was Malfoy.

"I know it's strange-"

"That you think you have some sort of connection with Malfoy?" Hermione crossed her arms, looking pointedly at Harry. "Of course I do."

"When you make it sound like that…It does sound worse than it is. But I don't mean with Malfoy, personally." He ran a hand through messy strands of hair. "You know I don't like talking about – You know – What happened that summer."

"So you're still not over Sirius?" Hermione asked curtly, tiring of dancing around Harry. And dealing with his ever-changing moods.

"No. But I don't want to think about it anymore. I just want to put it behind me."

"You can't just put it behind you. Pretend nothing's happened." It was absurd. You couldn't just _forget_ what happened to you. You can't just bury it and expected it to go away.

"Harry." Hermione watched as Neville dashed through the commons, almost tripping over himself in the process. "Harry." He sounded out of breath. As if he came from the other side of the school. Not quite from yelling, but he managed raise his voice above a pitch garnered from a whisper.

He ran through the empty room, flopping himself on the couch. Neville sat in between Harry and Hermione. His hair was a mess. Almost as unmanageable as Harry's. His robe was dishevelled, and the tie underneath his shirt collar was crooked. Nearly positioned over his shoulder.

But despite his appearance, Neville seemed unaffected as he took a moment to gather himself.

"Neville, what are you-" Hermione started.

But Neville paid her little attention. Too caught up in his excitement, he instead focussed on Harry. "I overheard Parkinson," He turned around at the incessant poking in his back, finally acknowledging the person he sat next to. "Sorry, Hermione." He looked at Harry again, as if asking for approval.

"It's all right, Neville. You can say it."

He didn't turn to Hermione, missing her irritation. His gaze remained on Harry as he spoke. "It's just that I overheard Parkinson and Zabini and they were talking about Draco."

Hermione raised her eyes at the use of Malfoy's first name. Noting that Harry didn't bat a lash. She wasn't sure what this meant, as far as Neville's intentions toward Malfoy were. But she recognised that she would have to watch out for Neville. And it was already becoming trying to keep Harry somewhat inhibited from the workings of Malfoy.

She moved to a cushioned chair placed across from the couch, hoping to assess their interaction.

"Did they see you?" Harry asked. His solemn mood changed by Neville's presence.

"No. No, at least I don't think so. They were too busy talking." Harry nodded when Neville paused. "But Draco wasn't there."

Hermione was again surprised by Neville's enthusiasm. Probably because all of the sudden attention Harry had given him. But she also noted the subtle plunge in his excitement; as his voice lost a bit of eagerness when spoke of Malfoy's absence from his friends.

Although, that was something else she would look into later.

Because she knew that although Neville wasn't unpopular among the crowd, neither was he high on the social hierarchy.

Neville had developed a self-deprecating personality over the last couple of years. To the point where he would do almost anything to please others.

And who better to please than Harry Potter?

"Well…" Harry urged. "What's the matter with him?"

"He fainted."

"_He fainted_?" Harry and Hermione asked, both taken back by the unexpected news.

Neville nodded at both Harry and Hermione. He noticed that she had moved to another seat, but seemed unphased by it. "And he's been out for two days." He displayed two fingers to Harry, emphasising the timeframe. "In the Slytherin dormitories, too."

"Not in the infirmary?" Harry rubbed the bottom of his chin. The gesture depicting him as one in deep thought. "Probably the Dark Mark."

"You think Draco has the Dark Mark?" Neville asked. A disbelieving tone in his voice.

Hermione didn't voice her opinion, but she did share Neville's _concerns_. If she could call them that. Malfoy may be the most troublesome annoyance, but even she didn't think he had the gall to pull off the Dark Mark in school.

What's more is that Malfoy was too predictable and too conspicuous to do any spying or information gathering of the sort.

Harry himself seemed unsure of the reasoning. "I mean, that could be why he didn't go to the infirmary. He probably got punished by Voldemort." But he grew more confident at the mention of the Dark Lord.

Neville shivered, but made no verbal protest to the mention of the Dark Lord's name.

Hermione noted the fallacy in Harry's statement. It sounded as if he wanted justify himself more than anything else. She wondered whether she could tell Harry about that Monday morning.

Because something told her there was more to this Malfoy fiasco than simply the Dark Mark. He had undeniably changed in the last few years. Everyone had.

Except maybe Harry.

"So Hermione, what do you think?"

"Me?" She turned to Harry. It seemed he, too, had realised her movement from the couch to the single chair.

He nodded his head slowly.

"Harry," She paused, still debating whether or not she could share that morning the in library with Harry. But she needed more time to assess Malfoy's strange behaviour. "Let's not jump to conclusions. Do you really think that Dumbledore would let a junior Death Eater in Hogwarts?"

"Did you think Dumbledore would allow Quirrell to teach?"

"What happened to Professor Quirrell?" Neville asked, thinking the man had only retired early.

Harry kept his gaze on Hermione, not bothering to fully answer the question. "Don't worry about that, Neville."

"Okay." Hermione released a heavy sigh, disappointed to find that Harry had not faltered. Despite the fact she knew it was less likely for Remus to return as a Hogwarts teacher than to find Death Eaters at Hogwarts. But she should have known better than to try to deter him once he made up his mind. "I concede to the point. But it still seems a bit circumstantial. Like a coincidence."

"Since when did you believe in coincidence, Hermione?" Harry said, his voice rising slightly.

Neville noticed the growing number of students in the common area. He turned at Harry's dark change in voice. Accusing Hermione of something. "I don't think-"

"Shut up, Neville." Harry and Hermione were heavily engaged, neither removing their eyes from one another.

"I'll just leave, now." Neville raised himself from couch as Hermione and Harry stood. Sliding himself in between them as the crowd became larger. A mob surrounding them. A desperate kind of eagerness was conveyed through its silence.

Because rarely did Hermione and Harry fight.

"I'm tired of trying to baby you, Harry Potter."

"I'm not asking you to pity me." His hands were nearly reaching out for her, though never touching.

"No, I'm just trying to stop you from going after your fool hardy ideas." You don't know what you're getting into Harry, she thought to herself. She was trying to prevent something like last year from happening again. She was trying to protect him the only way she knew how.

And more importantly, stop Harry from running head first into something he had no clue about.

He still hadn't learned that his actions have consequences.

"Then don't follow me, then."

"It's because I care."

"They why don't you help me?" It almost looked as if he was begging her, his voice almost breaking and frantic. Somehow knowing he would need her. Wanting to need her

But Hermione neglected to see this, too taken with her own emotions. "Harry. If you get your head out of the clouds, you'll see that's what I'm trying to do."

"Well you're not doing an impressive job of it."

She moved closer to Harry, her voice turning into a curt whisper. She was now aware of the crowd gathering around him, but continued to stare at him. Becoming intimidating despite their difference in height. . "You idiot. Of all the pompous-"

"If you didn't have your head in so many books-"

"Stop it." Ron pushed through the crowd of Gryffindors, hastily pushing through when he heard the raised voices of his friends. "What the hell is wrong with you two?"

"Nothing." Harry said, looking away from Ron, who now stood in between Hermione and him.

Hermione scoffed. For once she was too angered to listen to any sort of reasoning. "Right, just like your half-brained ideas got Snuffles killed."

Harry stiffened.

He suddenly noticed the stares from the crowd of Gryffindor students. Their gazes were penetrating and uncomfortable. Like a mob ready to descend upon him.

He felt uncomfortable. Naked. Exposed.

He tried to walk away quickly, his hair shadowing his eyes. He held is head up, so not to appear as if he was running. Hurriedly murmuring _excuse me,_ as he made his way through the throng of students.

"Harry…" Hermione tried to get his attention, realising the extent of her actions. She reached for him with her arm, but Ron pushed it back down. She could only watch as Harry kept on walking, his back turned away from her. Disappearing when he reached the stairs. "I'm sorry…" She trailed off, knowing her apology wasn't heard.

And even if it was, she doubted it would have been accepted.

Ron gave her a sharp glance, initially one of shock quickly turning into a rare display of viciousness. "I'm going to help my _friend_." He ran towards Harry's retreating figure, his pace quickening with each step. His trek was made easier as the crowd parted for him.

Hermione was never one to pay attention to the mindless chatter of her peers. Not since her first and second year at Hogwarts. But suddenly, she could discern the whispers. Recognise the accusing stares.

Feel the ignominy she hadn't felt in a long time.

* * *

"I don't remember."

Blaise looked at the wall. Looking to it for answers it didn't have. "Forgive me if I'm slow."

Pansy rolled her eyes, barely able to contain a sigh. This was neither the place nor the time. "How can you not remember, Draco? It happened to _you_."

"You're forgiven Blaise." Draco started to shrug his shoulders, but the attempt ended up taking too much energy. And his sore body reminded him to lie back down.

"But seriously, tell us. Was this another of your schemes to get out of detention?" Blaise asked, knowing Draco detested detention. Regretting the ones he had already served.

"What was I doing?"

"Goyle." Pansy said curtly.

Draco's eyes widened, as he tried to sit up. "I was with Goyle? Where is he?"

"Yes, Draco. You were with Goyle the last time you were conscious." Pansy moved to help him, as he was having trouble with simple movements. "Let me help you before you black out again."

"I never did that before." He made himself pliable as Pansy put a pillow behind him. Appreciative of her actions.

"You mean collapse?" She asked, adding another pillow to support Draco.

"Yes, but what-"

"Caused it?" Blaise interrupted. "We were hoping you would tell us."

"How am I supposed to-" Draco began, but was interrupted by a knock on the door. He watched Severus reach to answer it, almost forgetting the man was in the room.

"You're late."

"Sorry, Mr. Snape." The three figures turned at the voice of Gregory, who despite his hulking form, managed to enter quietly. "Madam Pomfrey wouldn't let me-"

"Goyle?" Draco tried to remove himself off the bed, instead almost falling upon the floor. Gregory had rushed across the room, to the dismay of both Blaise and Pansy, catching Draco in his arms before he fell.

Draco looked at his friend as he was helped back into the bed. He was relieved he had not fallen on the floor. "Are you okay?"

"I should be asking you that." Gregory said, trying to laugh off Draco's rare display of concern. "And don't call me that, Draco. You know I can't stand my name."

As she watched the easy interaction of the two, Pansy held a livid gleam in her eyes. Only the light touch of Blaise's hand upon her arm able to keep her from doing anything brash.

"Mr. Malfoy." Goyle quickly released his hold on Draco. Hiding the slight tint on his face, he backed away from Blaise's bed. Embarrassed about his actions, he focussed his attention on Draco, who had now turned to his godfather. "Mr. Goyle was unconscious, as well."

"Did I-"

"Draco, please refrain from moving before you further injure yourself." Severus walked to Draco's side, placing a firm hand upon his shoulder. "Please."

"Goyle, are you sure you're all right?"

"I'm fine, Draco." Gregory began to walk closer to Draco, but was intercepted by Pansy.

"Get away from him." She pushed Gregory away from the bed, surprising the other figures in the room.

"Pansy…" Draco looked at her questioningly, still held firmly on the bed by Severus. He knew Pansy was often defensive where he was concerned, but this was still uncharacteristic behaviour. "What are you doing?"

Draco's question went unanswered. His soft murmurs were overridden by the combination of Pansy's and Gregory's voices. "Don't touch him again."

"Don't touch me." Gregory replied in defence. He was unsure why Pansy was angry with him. He wouldn't actually call her a friend, but neither was she his enemy.

"You know what you did."

"I'm only trying to help him."

"Since when are you chummy with Draco?"

"Pansy…" Blaise tried to grasp her arm. "Lay off , will you?" But she easily shrugged his efforts.

"Don't tell me what-"

"Ms. Parkinson." Rarely did Severus raise his voice, preferring his actions or lack thereof to communicate for him. However, this impromptu bickering was highly unnecessary. Grating on his nerves and upsetting Draco more than need be.

He was already irate from being kept in the dark concerning Draco's state. And though he would not admit it, he was worried, as well.

"I, more than anyone, understand your _trepidation_. But this is neither the time nor the place."

"Professor Snape he," She pointed at Goyle. "Did something to Draco. I know that-"

"I didn't do-"

"Leave, Ms. Parkinson."

"Pansy." Blaise firmly seized Pansy's arm. He gave it a squeeze, motioning with his head to Draco.

Pansy turned her gaze from Gregory to her friend on the bed, somewhat disturbed by his poorly disguised shudders. And the circular motions the professor was making on Draco's back.

She had unintentionally upset her friend. Something she tried to prevent Gregory from doing.

Pansy gave a long sigh in defeat. "I get it, Blaise. We're leaving." She kept her gaze on Draco, who eyes were now squinted, as if he was in pain. Small beads of sweat were dripping from his forehead. He was probably closing himself off again.

She didn't even look back as Blaise led her away. Nor did she protest.

Draco, finally opening his eyes, didn't pay attention to Pansy and Blaise's departure. He looked to Severus, who had finally stopped rubbing his back when he felt the tension in Draco's form begin to dissipate. "Severus, did I…?" He wasn't reassured by Goyle's earlier statement to the contrary.

"No, Draco." Severus sighed, his weight making a dip in the bed.

"But, Goyle….Did I almost – Did I almost hurt you, too?" He looked pleadingly at his friend, his breath quickening.

"No." Gregory moved to hold Draco's hand. "I promise you."

Draco tried to calm himself, turning to his godfather. "So Goyle told you what happened? During the summer?"

"What he could." Severus said. His tone indicating his displeasure at what little information he did receive before Gregory took the same state as Draco.

"Oh."

"Why didn't you tell anyone?" Severus did his best to keep his voice level, aware of the precarious situation concerning Draco's mental state.

"What am I supposed to say, Severus?" By the way, I have these abilities, and I don't know exactly what they do, but they sometimes leave me and those around me unconscious." Draco answered tersely.

Severus and Gregory didn't answer, making an effort to be patient of Draco's attitude.

"How did I avoid the hospital wing?"

"I had to persuade Pomfrey. Make sure she knew that there was nothing to be done. And the Headmaster knows of the circumstances surrounding your _condition_."

"You told him, Severus." Draco looked at the man sharply. Pieces of his memory were coming together. Like from an illusive dream. He thought he had been imagining it when Gregory told him that Dumbledore knew something. Even his subconscious wasn't ready to believe it. Not even accept it as a possibility, because he still didn't want to believe in it.

But now it seemed as thought he had no choice. If Dumbledore did know, where would that put him? "You told him, didn't you?"

"Don't ever doubt me, Draco." Severus released Draco's shoulder, instead leaning closer to whisper in his face. "I couldn't care less as to what you do with your miserable existence, but do not doubt me."

Draco was sure the relief was visible from his face, his doubt momentarily gone. The insults from Severus were achingly familiar and he longed for them. And it was then that he was reassured. That he knew everything would work out. He could return to some semblance of himself. "I suppose I should thank you, but it's not really something I would do."

"I don't expect much from you."

But his misgivings were once again redeemed as he thought of that morning in the library. Able to recall only bits and pieces. "But it's bad enough that Granger is on to something."

The information was new to Severus, as he raised his eyes at Draco. His tone was flat as he spoke. "What?"

Draco turned to Gregory, who communicated silently to him. Conveying that he had not told Severus the extent of their conversation earlier. Meaning he didn't mention the specifics.

"I think whatever happened with Goyle may have happened with Granger." Draco said, nervously. Not backing down from Severus' gaze.

"When? I would have heard something if she fainted, as well."

"The same day." Draco released a heavy sigh, slightly miffed by Severus' word choice. "Monday, in the library. She accused me of saying something about…"

"About what, Draco?" Severus demanded, just short of wanting to shake the answer of out of godson. "About what?"

"I'm trying to remember." Draco rubbed his head; the pain he had been trying to quell was becoming more intense. "Something important."

"Take your-"

"Be quiet, Mr. Goyle. I believe you have done enough for time being. We don't have time for this." Severus turned his attention to Draco. "It is _crucial_ that you remember, Draco."

"I think the…" His palms were now resting against his forehead. His face was flushed and his breathing was becoming heavy once more. "Something from the _Hávamál_. Our project that-"

"The Norse rune?"

"She claimed I was reciting the inscriptions."

"How would you-"

"I picked it up a few years ago." Draco paused, trying to collect his thoughts. "When this," Draco motioned to his body. "Started happening, I looked up some ancient runes and-"

"And they may have something to do with why it's so unrestrained." Severus said as he removed a handkerchief from his pocket. Using it to gently wiping the perspiration from Draco's cheek.

"Severus. I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it escalate like this."

Severus stood from the bed, removing the cloth from Draco's face. He looked at it in disdain, his hands becoming wet from the collected moisture. "I think the best thing for you would be to get rest. At least for the time being."

"Sev, I-"

"Mr. Malfoy, I shall lock this door. After which, I expect you to be resting."

"And I-"

"Be quiet, Draco." Severus turned away from him. Not really sure of what he was supposed to say. Knowing that despite Draco's determination to handle things on his own, he still instinctively looked to Severus.

And as much as he would like to, Severus was aware that there was little he could do concerning Draco's predicament. If it was a challenge to keep Draco's parents, alongside the Dark Lord and his followers, unacquainted, what would it be like to have to quell Dumbledore increasing inquisitiveness? Not to mention if Granger was even the least bit suspicious, there was no remote chance that Potter wouldn't be far behind.

He looked at Draco, waiting for the boy to at least close his eyes.

Satisfied with Draco turning around and feigning sleep, for the time being, Severus motioned for Gregory to follow him out of the dormitory. Severus took the silencing charm off the room in which Draco lay, and instead placed one around Gregory and himself.

"Where are we going?"

"Just follow me."

"Are we leaving Draco alone, Mr. Snape?"

"Ms. Parkinson and Mr. Zabini will be here." Severus kept his pace, forcing Gregory to move hastily behind him. "Soon."

"Why can't he go to a specialist to figure out what's wrong with him." Gregory asked him as they walked. "He needs help that we can't give him."

Severus stopped, his full height allowing him to peer down at the member of his House. "Do you want this to get out? Do you want to see Draco taken away for who knows what?" Severus released some of his controlled anger at the inane nature of the question. "I know this is difficult for you. It's taking a toll on all of us. But we don't have many resources to turn to."

Gregory looked away, unable to meet his professor's eyes. "I'm just tired of all this secrecy. What we have to do to protect him. Maybe it won't be that bad?"

Severus did not dignify the question with an answer. Choosing to walk away from Greg's hopeful gaze. He knew his student would follow him. That was never doubted as they had much to go over concerning his godson.

But right now, Severus could no longer look into Gregory's eyes. Seeing that innocence and naiveté still present after all these years.

He didn't want to see that hope die.

* * *

_I love Hermione in all her book smart and snobby glory. And Draco's condition humbles him somewhat. Besides those little notes, I'm honestly wondering where the slash comes in. But there's a pattern. It's just takes many words to get there._

_But I keep going back and forth because I wrote this before HBP, but Harry's obssession (see slight similarities) is bothering me. Despite the fact that's how I inititally planned it._


	7. Oceano VII

_Friday, 13 September 1996_

Hermione and Malfoy had finally met early yesterday morning. During one of their study breaks and coincidentally just before their Ancient Runes class.

Much to her surprise, they were almost getting along, reaching an understanding of sorts: their mutual interest in their grades. Of course, this didn't alleviate her feelings towards him; however, it did help to quell her consequent apprehension regarding her decision to choose him as a partner.

But he was better company than her current nonexistent relationship with her friends, the only ones with whom she actively spoke – more specifically, Harry and Ron. Although, the situation wasn't as overwhelming as it initially seemed. She, Harry, and Ron have had fallouts before. This was surely nothing new.

Hermione had never perceived Malfoy to be more than an idle nuisance.

Yet, the more she interacted with him, the more quickly she was coming to changing her mind.

"_Okay, Granger." Draco set his book on the table, draping his satchel over the back of the chair as he took a seat across from Hermione. "I'm ready to get started."_

"_On your own terms, Malfoy?" Hermione scoffed, turning her attention back to her reading. "I'm already working on something else."_

"_On a book that happens to pertain to our project?"_

"_In which you have yet to put any effort."_

"_Listen, I'm not in the mood for you. We need-"_

"_And neither am I in the mood for you, Malfoy. But I'm still here," she motioned at the table. "Talking to you. Despite how much I want you gone."_

"_I've no need to explain myself to you," he muttered beneath his breath, not caring if she heard him or not. "We have two more months to get this done."_

"_It's nice to see that you have some sense of urgency."_

"_Granger, forgive me for trying to cooperate with you. If you have a problem, please tell me because it's too late to change your choice of partner," he replied snidely, reminding Hermione who chose whom._

"_Well, we need to establish a regular time and place to meet. And hopefully I won't need a magical contract to ensure that you'll comply."_

"_As long as we don't need blood," he remarked, left hand resting on the table as he fingers tapped against the wood. "You see, my skin's already pale enough as it is."_

"_Really? I would have never been able to tell." Hermione smiled warmly through her derisive remark. "As much as I actually pay attention to you."_

"_Despite the fact that we share three classes together?"_

"_The fact that you even know that speaks much more about you, Malfoy."_

_There was a moment of silence before Draco coughed, opening a textbook in front of him. "So…what day is good for you?"_

"_After Arithmacy."_

"_I have Herbology, then."_

"_Potions?"_

It was somewhat tense between them, and although the encounter was the most neutral Hermione has had with him, she still harboured former feelings. But these Hermione withheld as she was more eager to begin their project and hopefully gain insight into Malfoy's behaviour.

Yet, for all her practised patience, she gained little from her last encounter with him and his lack of reaction when she said the name of the runes aloud. Her disappointment in not being able to procure any information was only deferred by the knowledge Malfoy had probably unknowingly given.

"_What exactly is it that you want to do?"_

"_Excuse me?"_

"_I don't actually care what we do, but I would like to know what it is."_

"_I told you," Hermione sighed irritably. "The L__jóðatal__ of the __Hávamál."_

"_Don't treat me as if I'm daft, Granger. I know you told me what we're researching, but what about it?"_

"_You know that it's believed to be more of a charm than a rune, right__, something more rudimentary?"_

_Draco nodded his head in agreement. "__Because it's a list and a key to other sequenced runic charms."_

"_Right…but I think it has a deeper connection with magic that we think…maybe even divination."_

_Draco sat back in his seat, crossing his arms. "Well, obviously you know little about it."_

"_What are you talking about?" Hermione narrowed her eyes at him._

"_It's a charm…have you even translated it, yet?"_

"_Translated it?" She gave him a strange look. "It's already translated into fifteen different-"_

"_But that's just one perspective."_

"_That the entire wizarding world agrees on."_

_Draco groaned, pressing a hand__ to his forehead. "All right, forget that. What makes you think it's more than a simple charm?"_

"_I can tell you already agree with me, but I'm surprised you brought up the biased translation."_

"_So why all the fanfare?"_

"_I w__anted to see how serious you were about it."_

"_This is getting too snug for me…especially with you." Draco looked as his watch, as if he was eager for something more important. "Can we hurry it up a bit?"_

"_Because we all have other places to be," she remarked, pleased it gained his attention when she saw the frown on his face. "What does the name "rune" essentially mean?"_

"_The actual word?" _

"_Yes."_

"_Secret, something hidden."_

"_Right, and of all the Poetic Edda, why does the Hávamál get the least recognition?"_

"_Because it's the most tedious?"_

"_Malfoy, be serious. Fourth years know this."_

"_It simply__ sets guidelines for wise living and survival," he replied, as if he was quoting from a text._

"_And we learn little more than that. But what about the end, where it-"_

"_Talks about Odin's magical runes and consequent spells?"_

But Hermione was going to remark that it was edited out of their books, condensed into repetitive tidbits about astute living that were already recited in earlier passages. She did agree with Malfoy concerning the translation issue and began her interpretation not too long ago, but if what he said was true – and she was loathe to admit that she did believe it – then she could be sure that Malfoy knew much more than he would divulge.

The only thing she could do – and could have done – in her situation was feign her familiarity with Odin's contribution to the Hávamál and hope Malfoy took the lie at face value. It was certainly something she had not been expecting and it did more than merely take her off guard.

In truth, she choose to study the Hávamál on a whim, not even imagining Malfoy could be connected with something that was seemingly mundane in the wizarding world and not thought much upon. Her Ancient Runes professor had actually tried to discourage Hermione from working on such a meager venture and attempted to direct her to more established and common runes like the Eldar Futhark or the Frisian and Anglo-Saxon Futhorc.

But she had stood firm by her decision when her professor relayed that there was actually very little concerning the Hávamál that tied it to the magical world. And if Malfoy seemed to apparently have an abundance of knowledge, of which their professor knew nothing, Hermione was convinced that this was going to become bigger than what she would be able to handle.

However, she still wasn't keen on releasing any of what she knew to other people.

Not until she knew what Malfoy had to do with the censored and possibly proscribed sections of an ostensibly marginal rune.

But she decided she would have to think more of it later, her musings interrupted by a gentle knock on her door. She hadn't really been expecting anyone, having been ostracised so quickly because of her spectacle with Harry, but it was somewhat comforting to have a visitor.

However, she was surprised when the door swayed open and a familiar figure nearly scurried into the room. "Neville?"

"Hi, Hermione." He waved to her as he walked into the room, closing the door behind him. "Are you okay?"

"You're not supposed to be in the girls' dormitory," Hermione accused, but did nothing to stop his entrance. She kept her eyes on his form, glancing at his feet dragging across the floor.

"I know, but everybody already left for lunch or class. And I wanted to make sure you were all right." He broke her gaze, his vision retreating downward. "So are you?"

"Of course I am." She shook her head, relating that she thought the question was obscure. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You and Harry fought," Neville stated, quickly raising his head in surprise.

"Oh…" She unconsciously tilted her head, almost denying the truth in Neville's words. "That wasn't anything. It was nothing more than a disagreement."

"Well, then…" Neville, still unconvinced, moved closer to Hermione, not questioning the absence of any other girls in the room. For the past two days, more than a good bit of Gryffindors had simply begun to ignore Hermione, distancing themselves from her. It had even extended to other houses. Though, it wasn't quite as heavy as within Gryffindor, some Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs had snubbed her, as well. But it wasn't much different from the Slytherins at any rate.

They treated all outsiders with disdain.

"May I ask you a question?" Hermione saw that Neville's thoughts were wandering from his initial intent and she almost had the mind to retreat from her question. She was in no position to make any more adversaries – even if they were from within her own house – but she had become single-minded in her desire for answers about Malfoy. And Neville, outside of Slytherin, seemed to be the only person in her reach. However, in order to attain answers, Hermione would have to be brusque.

Because Neville didn't quite understand her idea of subtle.

"If I can take a seat." Neville smiled cautiously as he moved closer to Hermione. But as she nodded and made room for him on her bed, he settled for a chair pressed against the side of wall. He was almost wary of the sudden invitation. Hermione wasn't necessarily a closed-off person, but at the same time, she wasn't an exemplar for the most affable type of person. "I don't mind."

"Why do you call Malfoy, Draco?"

"Oh." Neville looked at Hermione's feet, scratching his head as lips turned into a frown. "I do?"

"You don't have to answer, although it does intrigue me." Hermione simply looked at Neville, hands draped in her lap as her eyes examined his form. She was pleased that the question hadn't upset him as much as she originally anticipated. The decision to pose the inquiry was more of an afterthought than anything, but at least he seemed more willing than defensive.

"Really, I don't know. I didn't even know I was doing it." And Neville wasn't being entirely untruthful. He was somewhat aware, but that stemmed from an urge that was involuntary; like a muscle spasm or some similar sort of reaction.

Neville knew it would have made more sense if he referred to all of his peers by their first names. Then, perhaps it wouldn't have sounded so chary. But honestly, Hermione has been the only one to confront him concerning his referral to Malfoy as Draco. He had actually begun the transition sometime around fourth year.

"_Longbottom?"_

_Neville turned at the person entering the Charms classroom, nearly white, blonde hair falling into his eyes as he walked closer to Neville. "Malfoy?"_

"_How did you manage a detention from Flitwick…of all people?"_

"_I…I was-"_

"_I might as well have been expelled by Sprout."_

He still had yet to discover the reasoning behind Draco's abrupt appearance but to see Draco was a revelation in the least. Neville had been trying to cast a simple Mobius charm, something of a review for the beginning of the new school year, when he had accidentally caused the chairs to chase the students. The professor had thought it a jinx and subsequently placed the responsibility on Neville. He gave Neville a detention that consisted of polishing all of the furniture in the class room.

Which apparently extended to the wooded floor, as well.

It wasn't his first detention and it certainly wasn't his last, but it was Neville's opportunity to interact with Draco outside the constraints of class or within the presence of their houses. Not to say that Draco had been more than his usual genial self because Neville anticipated the mocking and the ridicule and would have expected nothing less.

But it was at that moment, as Draco's callous laughter echoed in the empty classroom, that Neville had found himself growing an appeal for Draco; when he became more than Malfoy. And it wasn't a physical attraction as much as it was an uninspired fascination that Neville once thought he would be able to ignore. But it grew within him, twisting into something dark and malicious that was far beyond Neville's own understanding.

It was a burgeoning carnal lust that knew no bounds and consequently continued to fuel Neville's transition from an inept and gauche little boy into someone he knew would be of far more grandeur.

Yet, for now, Neville kept it contained, hidden away until he knew when the right moment would come.

"What can I say Hermione? It's his name?" Neville had small hopes that the explanation would be enough to placate his friend. Because no one really paid much heed to him that first day of classes when he received a detention from Flitwick and he doubted anyone still remembered. Since that was why no one really knew of it now.

But he could tell by the look on her face that Hermione didn't believe it.

* * *

"Are you ready to talk to _us_, now?" Pansy tried to convey her anger, her deep rooted disappointment in her friend through her voice. Anything to conceal the damage, even if unintentional, Draco had inflicted upon her because she wasn't sure if she could maintain the charade much longer. 

It was quickly escalating into something she could no longer control, a liquid she was failing to contain in her palms.

Draco scrunched his face, taking a moment to think before he allowed himself to reply. He felt cornered, unable to relay the severity of the situation to his counterpart of something odd years. He knew her patience was wearing thin. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to admit that he needed help when he told himself long ago that he would confront his issues alone…even if it led him into a downward spiral. "Pansy, I-"

"That's a right shame because _we_ don't wish to speak with you." Which was the truth, she convinced herself. Pansy wasn't conflicted because she honestly believed she and Blaise didn't want to speak to Draco. It was something they both agreed on before they decided to speak to Draco. They had already given Draco plenty of time to come to them. Two days was more than enough and Draco would eventually have to give in if she and Blaise were to take a more roundabout process.

Even if she had to keep telling herself that.

"Because I didn't tell you what happened last summer, is that it?" Draco asked; irritation at her inability to fully understand coating his words. It would have been easier if she would have just accepted that he was coming along fine and ignored whatever it was within her that urged her to try to help him. Regardless of his more recent fainting spells and the uncertainty with Granger, he'd have a hold on things, soon.

"No…" Pansy tightened her knuckles, sharp nails digging into the skin of her palms and she spoke through clenched teeth. She truthfully wished Blaise was beside her, but she would have to rely on her own resolve for now. "Because you haven't been telling us anything, at all."

"What does that have to do-"

"Blaise and I have been with you through every step of…whatever this is – never questioning and willing to settle for the most minimal of your excuses."

"And I don't see why-"

"But we can't – we're _not_ – going to follow you blindly into something you obviously have no control over."

Draco stood from his seat on top of his desk, moving to stand in front of Pansy. "Look…Granger being suspicious is just a small hindrance. I'll deny everything and no one will believe her-"

"The fainting, Draco," Pansy reminded him, not entirely surprised at his attempts to skirt around the issue. "Only a handful of people know about you and the one who should know the most is riding our arses about it. You don't even tell your godfather-"

"Pansy…" Draco groaned in frustration, mentally willing for her to understand exactly why he chose not to let many know. It was because he was afraid. And it was a true fear that had manifested itself to the point where Draco was wary to even acknowledge it in his mind. He didn't know why he would collapse at various times and not be able to recall the events. He didn't know how he could exhaust another person through simple touch.

And he didn't know what would happen to him if his secret were to be revealed to those he did not trust

"We're lost Draco. Blaise and I want to help you but you're not giving us much to work with." She and Blaise had been there when Draco first displayed signs: the impromptu passing out, the lost of memory…the day Pansy almost died when Draco touched her – an experience that would forever haunt her. They were sworn not to relay how much he had actually affected Pansy's health and in turn belittle the event.

Who would want to tell a thirteen year old boy he had almost killed his friend?

But the more she dwelled on it, the more she began to agree with Goyle and his own simple reasoning. Perhaps Professor Snape had sheltered Draco too much, been uncannily overprotective.

And maybe that's why Draco couldn't grasp the extent of his abilities and how dangerous everything was quickly becoming. Because in the wrong hands…no, she didn't want her mind to dwell on the possibilities of such an open-ended thought.

So, she hoped Blaise's plan to compel Draco into desperation would work.

It was a risk she and Blaise thought it best to take.

"I've told you all I can. What more do you want to know, Pansy?"

"Don't worry about it Draco…because we don't think we can keep up with you anymore."

* * *

"It' already been two days, mate." Ron sat forward in the armchair, groaning as he ran his hands through his hair. He'd naively thought that the whole thing would have blown over by now, but he'd forgotten how alike Hermione and Harry were: both were ridiculously mulish. "What were you even arguing about?" 

"Ron, I don't know how it started," Harry admitted as he sighed, sagging into his chair. "One minute, I was trying to get her to tell me about Malfoy-"

"Wait, _Malfoy_. Did he have something to do with it?"

"Not really…kind of…yeah."

"I've left you alone a bit. But Hermione's still my friend - even if I'm not talking to her right now – and she wouldn't have said something like that without a reason, right? I mean, you must have said something, too."

"Does it really matter, Ron?"

"Listen, I'm on your side, but Hermione doesn't just blow up like that for no apparent reason. She wouldn't just talk about _him_…especially with a room full of other people."

"Like I said, I just wanted her to tell me about Malfoy."

Ron simply stared at him sceptically. He would have to get Hermione's side because it didn't seem like Harry was going to reconcile any time soon. As much as he didn't want to admit it, he'd rather have the Harry and Hermione from the train…at least they were still talking to each other.

Harry was more than a bit disconcerted that Ron didn't believe him. He asked about Malfoy and he knew Hermione was telling him less than she actually knew. It was nothing more than that. "But she said that there was nothing going on with Malfoy."

"And…" Ron encouraged him to continue, knowing he would probably regret the decision later on. As far as he was concerned, anything regarding Malfoy was bad. It was as black and white as that and he didn't understand why Harry and Hermione needed to concern themselves with evil. Although, he could also admit that Malfoy hadn't done anything lately – that wasn't up to par with his usual self – that called for attention.

"And I know she's been hiding something from me."

Ron sighed again, rubbing the palm of his hand against his forehead. He didn't see how Harry could doubt Hermione at all…and over Malfoy, no less. "Why so much about Malfoy all of a sudden? What's so important about the twit that's been a pain in-"

"He's up to something," Harry contended, his face set and resolve determined. That was the only justification he could offer at this point. And in theory, he thought it would have sufficed because he had nothing to give credence other than that reasoning – something that made sense in his mind.

It wasn't some imprudent attempt to cling to the life he once had – not matter what Hermione had accused him of.

In spite of the change around Harry, Malfoy did not stand as some sort of stability. Harry could move on, as well; past the nightmares, restlessness and the sense of bleakness that seemed to darken his every thought. He didn't pay notice to the conflicts that hovered like an ominous cloud, waiting and anticipating the chance to completely shroud him.

Harry didn't need Ron to be his ever present shadow once more; something for which he used to hide his dislike. He didn't need Hermione prying into his personal matters, interfering in a manner that consequently has saved his life on more than one occasion.

He would deny that he had become resolute to overlook certain events and would proceed with his life as if they had never even occurred. He would refute the fact that for the first time in his life, he was taking the road more travelled and didn't want to face a reality for which he had no concern.

But he knew he'd be lying to himself.

And he'd lost the courage to concede to this long ago. "It's just…" Harry closed his eyes as he lowered his head, taking a slow breath. He would see if he could preserve the pretence and feign ignorance to the before and after.

"It's just what?"

"Nothing, Ron. Absolutely nothing."

* * *

_I have little I can say about this with the exception that this has been a long time coming...and the fact that it's one thing to write ideas on paper, and it's another to actually type them. However, I can now get into the whole "runes" thing which I personally believe is interesting._

_But I've have been going back and correcting mistakes that I've missed in prior chapters...been doing with many of my stories lately. I'm trying to edit on a single platfrom instead of three different ones. Hopefully, that will help me, somewhat and keep some semblance of consistancy._

_And thanks for reviewing janinePSA...it's been a while, but I haven't abandonded this, yet._


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